Don't Die
by Alice84
Summary: When we lost all, we became each other's everything.
1. Day 0 - Introduction

_Day 0_

The city bus that stopped on the corner of 3rd St and Davis Avenue was nearly empty. It broke the eerie silence of the street to drop off a lone person, who stood there, back to the door as it closed and the bus went on its way down the street. Hands on the pocket of her black hoodie, Sam looked to her left to see the bus rattle away, discreetly feeling for the sheathed blade she kept hidden on the waistband of her jeans. She kept it with her all times, a habit that made her feel safer, stronger. Starting to walk, she kept her head down but her eyes up, attention on its peak. Her steps were silent, her old, worn out tennis shoes light on the hard asphalt, but her rapid pounding heart sounded loud on her ears as a dog leapt up the fence she passed with a sudden, deep bark. She took an involuntary step to the side, hand flying to grip the knife handle on the sheath. It wasn't safe to walk around there at night, she knew that by experience. Eyeing the dog for a moment, as it kept barking angrily, she forced herself to breathe in and out and adjusted the straps of her small backpack from where it rested over her silver blonde dreadlocks.

It was a simple seven-minute walk from that corner to her house, but it felt like an hour.

Turning on the corner of 7th St, Sam should have been relieved to be close to her house, but she wasn't. Her heart thumped hard again as she took a couple of steps after the corner and voices reached her ears. Loud, menacing laughter travelling through the air from a house near the end of the street, about a hundred yards away. _Not far enough._ Sam had counted her steps over and over again, eyes always darting around.

She knew that street in its details. The houses there were not close together, big spaces and trees between them, no fences. The blue house on the left corner was the nicest one, with the nicest people, an elderly couple who always smiled at her when they met, even though they never spoke. She felt sorry for them, growing old in a neighborhood like this. To her right, a long line of trees with no houses, cricket singing in the warm night. The second house had a nice but now overgrown front yard, a big For Sale sign stuck on the grass for a long time now. The first two houses on the right side belonged to just one family; loud people who were always crossing the yard between them, fighting daily and yelling at each other, but tonight the voices she heard didn't come from there, but from the next house on the left. Two-story, old yellowing white paint, chipping brown windows and railings. Four steps lead up to a small porch, and an old, decaying couch under the window, now littered by a small group of men under the dim light. It wasn't a rare occurrence; they were there many nights a week. Sam looked around once again and over her shoulders, checking if she was really alone, and removed her right hand from her pocket, only to snake it around the knife handle once again. Reassured it was really still there, she let her slightly trembling hand move back into the pocket, lowered her head and hastened her steps, but didn't run.

Empty beer cans and a strong smell of low quality weed decorated the place. Tonight there were three men other than the two who lived there. A man she knew to have a weird nickname like Gecko or something was sitting on the top step, back to the railing, lighting up the joint with a lighter. There was another sitting on the couch, she couldn't see him properly behind the railing and the overgrown bush that tried to decorate it, but she saw enough of him to know it was the weird guy who lived at the end of Anderson Street, three blocks away from here. He was named after a letter. She didn't even try to remember which one now. There was another man sitting on the floor in front of the door, a can in hand, draining it. She heard him belch when he finished, and he laughed throwing it to the floor by his side. Elbows resting on the railing, looking out at the street, was the younger of the two brothers who lived there, cigarette in hand, his expression guarded, looking pissed off like he usually looked. Finally, on the arm of the couch, the older brother, graying shaved head, a smirk playing on his lips as his light blue eyes saw her approach.

A cold chill started on the bottom of her spine and travelled up to lodge on the nape of her neck. One by one the men saw her, and she knew what was about to happen.  
They never permitted her to go by them in peace. That had never happened and Sam was not optimistic enough to think tonight it would be different.

"There she is!", Sam heard Merle coo aloud in his hoarse, drunkenly drawled voice. "Done a lotta studyn' today? Did ya give it good to the teacher for em' good grades?", he yelled and laughed, the others echoing him, highly entertained. They followed his rude, inappropriate comments and gestures, things Sam tried to ignore and stop herself from being offended by, but as usually she failed miserably. She wanted to disappear, or better yet, she wanted them to disappear. To close her eyes and to see them gone when she opened them, but no, she didn't dare to close her eyes. She kept them open and attentive, looking at each of the five men once again.

Only one of them was quiet, not following the other's lead, light blue eyes like his older brother's fixed on her now, teeth biting on his lower lip's skin. The younger brother was not much older than Sam herself. He was the only one whose voice she didn't hear in those occasions. He never said anything and she had never seen him laughing at what the others say. But he was there, and he didn't stop the others from humiliating her every other night, so to her, he just as much a threat as the others. Sam looked away, walking even faster, trying to dodge the impending situation, but it was too late. One of the men, the one who had been sitting on the couch, was already up and crossing the front yard over the poorly kept grass in quick steps. He stood in front of her, blocking her way. His name was D, she remembered now. Sam didn't know what it stood for, she had never heard his real name, but she liked to imagine it was Dickhead.

 _It was his last name. First name was Dead._

He smiled down at her, the smell of beer on his breath, with barely any teeth left in his mouth at all, except a few stained, yellowed teeth. Blonde, oily hair falling over his forehead almost covering his blue, reddened eyes. He wore a ragged tank too short to cover his protruding belly.

"Where ya goin' sweetheart?", he said opening his arms to block her way.

She stopped, just like her breathing did for a second. "Get out of my way, D", she growled between clenched teeth.

"C'mon, sugar, let's go inside and have us some fun." And with that, he grabbed her left arm just above the elbow, strongly, and turned towards the stairs, forcing her with him.  
Her hands fell from inside the hoodie pockets. The other men got up from their positions to watch as Sam struggled to make D let go of her arm, urging him to pull her harder. Among them, Sam saw Merle up and attentive, smugness gone from his eyes, something unreadable taking its place. The men's voices filled her mind of any further thought, D's fetid breath suffocating her.

"Let go!", she hissed aloud, arm bouncing strongly back and forth trying to escape, but he was stronger, even in his inebriated state.

"Not gonna happen, sweetie", he smirked as he pulled her strongly against his chest, one arm circling her lower back, pressing her hard against him. "Been patient enough for years just talkin' and hearin' ya always bitchin'."

"I'm warning you, D, get your fuckin' hands off of me!"

He laughed aloud, the sound making a cold chill travel up her spine again, forcefully pulling her to the middle of the Dixons' front yard. "Well shit, would ya look at the dirty mouth on ya!"

"Son of a bitch!", she barked as he spoke, her free arm thumping against his chest with clenched fist.

"You gonna show me how dirty ya can be, princess". With that, he put even more force to his grip and pulled her to him, his mouth crashing against hers, his tongue moving over her tightly closed lips, trying to force its way into her mouth. Her stomach churned, bile rising to her throat. Eyes wide open, Sam saw as her two neighbors moved from where they had been watching it all so far. Her heart beat even faster, now almost painfully as they both walked down the steps heading in their direction. The pair stopped dead in their tracks a moment later, though, as D's loud, hoarse scream filled the night around them and cut off the laughter coming from the porch. He pushed her away from him, a hand touching his lips, eyes wide in horror as he saw his own blood run down.

Sam's trembling hand wiped the blood from her own lips and spat on the floor, features showing just how disgusted she felt now, her hand already reaching for the knife on her waistband sheath.

"Fuckin´ bitch!", D yelled, all signs of laughter gone, blood dripping from his lower lip. "Gonna show ya not to disrespect a man!" Raising his hand, he slapped her across the face, strongly enough to make her head swirl to the side. She caught herself before stumbling to the ground, and just as she regained balance, her hand came up so quickly the other men almost missed the movement altogether, but D saw it and froze in place, eyes glued to the girl in front of him.

Blood stained her lips, a mix of rage and disgust in her eyes, and now a knife pointing to his throat.

"I. Warned. You", she whispered menacingly, pausing after each word.

"I know whatcha need, kitten", D said in a low voice, the smile returning to his bit down, bloody lip, "ya need a man to calm yer nerves. Ya ain't of 'em lesbos, are ya?"

"If ya ever touch me again – fuck, ya ever even look at me again, I swear I'll cut off your dick and shove it up your ass!", she hissed venomously and pressed the knife further, D taking a tentative step back and the tip of the knife pressed into his skin. She raised her voice then, hating that it trembled a little, "Now get the fuck outta my face!"

"Alright, alright, sugar." He laughed and raised his arms in mocking surrender, taking more steps backwards to the house. "Just kidding anyway, keep ya panties on". He turned to his friends to see them laugh at his absurdly stupid joke. "Tough one, ain't she?", he smirked at the other men and looked at her again over his shoulders, a dangerous smirk and a threatening glint in his eyes. "Won't mind taming it".

Sam followed his movements with her knife, still pointing it to him, her hand trembling a little even as he stepped up to the porch. Only then she looked at the others. Merle hadn't moved and he wasn't laughing, his hand touching at the gun tucked under back of his waistband. Sam became sure he'd shoot her on spot if she went any further with D. The others laughed with him as he approached, clapping him on the back, complimenting him for his attack like he was their hero. Merle's younger brother, Daryl, was standing by him, observing the scene, his eyes looking dangerously at D and then back at Sam. Her narrowed eyes met his for a moment as she started to back away, eyes darting over every man there as she increased the distance between them. She finally turned around and retreated in hasty steps towards her house, the too small distance between them feeling much longer as she did, her ears still trained on their vicious voices.

Bounding up her own front steps, Sam risked one last gaze at the neighbors' house and caught Daryl watching her unlock the door, desperate for the psychological safety being inside would bring her. Once inside her house, she locked the door, knife still in hand, knuckles white from gripping it so hard. She faced the door for a long moment, half expecting it to be forced open at any second now. As long moments passed and nothing happened, Sam felt her legs threaten to give away and lowered herself to the floor, pulling her knees tight onto her chest.

She was sure the men didn't hear the rage that came out of her in a low, throaty scream.


	2. Day 1

Day 1

Sam had just changed busses, leaving the first one and taking the second on her way to work. She had to get up before the sun could even start to pale the Savannah horizon if she was to make the early morning shift to wait on breakfast tables. It was a nine-mile distance between her house and the 24/7 diner close to the army airfield. She sat at the back of the bus, as deep down into the seat as she could, a red hoodie up and covering her head. As the bus drifted away, she opened her backpack over her lap, found a small hand mirror inside and looked at her reflection for the third or fourth time this morning, and once again, what she saw made her relive the slap she had received across the face, disgust closing on her throat as if it had just happened. Her right eye was smeared with a bluish-purple bruise; small, but very visible, even though it was not swollen. Seething, she shoved the mirror back inside and zipped it closed.

Sam hadn't slept that night. She calmed down enough to get up from the floor and go to the kitchen, where she drank all the water she could manage to drink, pushing down the painful knot on her throat. Moving to her bedroom and locking herself inside, light off, she sat on her bed, back to the headboard, knife still close to hand on the mattress, and listened, simply listened for hours. It took an eternity for the house next door to go quiet. Maybe the men had left. Or maybe they had all passed out from drinking so much.

Oh, she could have used a drink or two.

The fury she felt was for more than D and his friends. It was for more than for being harassed cowardly by a man bigger and physically stronger than her. It was for her own hesitation. Weak, momentary hesitation made her not grab the knife sooner. It had given him time to get hold of her, touch her, lick her, and even after that, to hit her, the mark of his slap angrily visible on her face. She hesitated and she hated herself for that.

Sam wanted a drink, even now on the bus, going to work. The smell of weed she had smelt last night coming from the Dixon's still very much alive in her nostrils.

God, she missed it bad.

People at the diner stared, her colleagues asking if she was ok, what had happened, who did this, and to dodge the questions was more work than she was willing to do this morning. She would have kept her hood on if it was possible, but instead she changed into the uniform, pulled her dreadlocks back, and raised her chin, refusing to look down. It was not just her colleagues or her manager who gave her weird looks; the customers did, too. Mr. Smith, the inn next door's manager who had breakfast there daily, wanted to know who the miserable soul who had hit her was. Sam thanked him for his empathy as she filled his mug with freshly brewed coffee.

Hours later, midway between breakfast and lunch time, Sam, almost distracted by the memories of last night, heard the door opened to let in a late customer, the doorbell singing delicately. Jar of coffee in hand, standing behind the counter, Sam froze in place as she saw Daryl stand there, looking around searchingly, as if checking to see if he was at the right place.

His eyes found her in a moment. He took in her beige uniform and white apron garments that looked completely out of character on her. She had blonde, long dreadlocks, a pierced nose, right arm closed with tattoos, and the left one nearly so. Daryl saw the moment of surprise quickly disappear from her eyes, giving place to sheer coldness and despite. Lowering his head, Daryl walked in her direction, finding an empty seat by the counter, all the while feeling the weight of her gaze following him. Silently, he looked up at Sam again and then down to the counter one more time.

Sam took a moment to realize she probably should move. She considered asking for Rosa, her colleague, to wait on him, but she was taking plates from the kitchen counter now and making her way to serve some customers. Swallowing a sudden lump on her throat, Sam breathed in deeply and took the few steps that separated her from Daryl across the counter. Silently she looked at him, who was still looking down. He was wearing a black Megadeth t-shirt and she hated it, because she kind of liked Megadeth. She sighed to get her annoyance under control and took a clean mug from under the counter, placed it roughly in front of him, startling him and making him look up. His eyes seemed even more clear blue now than by the distance as she was used to seeing them, and she could see bags under them. It looked like he also hadn't slept last night. Sam filled the mug with coffee, eyes still on him.

"Gonna eat?" she asked coldly.

"Eggs," he mumbled.

Raising a single eyebrow, Sam walked away from him without another word. There was work to do, after all. She placed his order, deciding he was going to have them scrambled, no matter what kind of eggs he had meant. She moved around the diner, waiting on tables, refilling mugs, but she couldn't stop herself from looking at Daryl every minute of so. He had never shown up there before, Sam had no idea how he knew where she worked – obviously it couldn't be just a coincidence. Why would Dixon come have breakfast ten miles away from his house? The fact that he did so after what happened last night made her wonder. When she reached him again to refill his coffee, he was already eating, Rosa must have served him. This time though, Daryl stared up at her.

"What?" Sam barked annoyed, but kept her voice down.

"D's an asshole."

"No kiddin'."

"He hurt ya."

It was not a question. He looked pointedly at her bruise, ignored fork falling from his hand to the plate with a clatter.

"Yeah," she said, raising her chin even more. "And I hurt him back. Your point?"

"Knife might not be enough next time," he muttered looking down to his plate again and picking up his fork before completing his sentence. "Big guy."

"I can also bite," Sam stated as she placed the coffee mug on the counter before resting both her hands on it right in front of him, leaning a little to look at him. "The fuck do you want, Daryl?" she hissed and he looked up, and she saw second of surprise in his eyes at the sound of his name. "I can take care of myself," she continued. "Met worse than D".

She moved away again, picking up the jar before he could say anything else. On her way towards the tables, she asked Rosa to wait on the band t-shirt guy at the corner of the counter for her. Rosa didn't ask why, just nodded and moved on.

Sam tried to breathe normally and feel relieved she would not have to speak to Daryl again, but she didn't. His very presence annoyed her immensely, like a big reminder of what had happened last night – a big, blue eyed reminder. She knew Daryl wasn't the worst of those men; he never did anything to her, but his trying to talk to her after having been assaulted by his friend last night made her angry almost to the limit.

He left money on the counter and left the diner without another word, not even five minutes later. For some strange reason, it didn't relieve her; it only made her even more annoyed. She couldn't say what good this visit had been for, other than to let her know that the Dixons knew where she worked. The next hour dragged by, the diner emptying little by little until it was possible for the waitresses to take a break. Rosa went first, leaving Sam alone for twenty minutes to clean up all the tables and sweep the floor. The movement of using the broom surprising her with a slight pain in her arm muscle, right above her elbow. She looked down at it and found a different color on her tattooed hummingbird, some purple where it should be only green. Rosa returned just then, catching Sam as she had her eyes closed, controlling her breath to keep from having an angry fit.

"You should go to the police," she heard Rosa say in a heavy accented worried voice, just as she felt her hand on her shoulder. "Ask for help."

"Don't worry about me, Rosa," Sam tried to smile. "I fought back. I always fight back."

"But he looks very strong," the woman continued, worried stamped on her dark eyes

"He..?"

"The man in the t-shirt," Rosa explained pointing to where Daryl had sat before.

"Oh no," Sam understood and smiled. "It wasn't this guy. It was someone else."

"Oh, ok", Rosa nodded. "But be careful, comprende?"

"I can take care of myself, Rosa. But thanks anyway. I'll be fine".

"Good. Now go, go have a break", the woman motioned Sam, taking the broom off her hand in the process.

Thanking her, Sam did as the older woman said. She yanked off the apron from her waist before finding her backpack in a locker under the counter and taking out a pack of cigarettes from inside. She headed out quickly; those break minutes being very necessary to calm her. Leaving through the back door, Sam walked towards the street across the parking lot, while she lit up a cigarette, a plastic cup of coffee held in the other hand. She reached the small fenced area where a dumpster was hid and leaned on it, inhaling deeply and closing her eyes for a moment.

"Can I get one?" she heard from somewhere to her left.

Daryl was leaning in the same position as her, on the other end of the brown fence, one knee bent with his foot resting on the wooden stared, cigarette between slightly parted lips, eyes narrowed as the smoke reached them.

"The fuck you doin' here?"

The cigarette almost fell.

Daryl straightened up and took a short step towards her, but still kept his distance, looking pointedly at the pack of cigarettes in her hand, still asking for one. Sam rolled her eyes and threw it at him.

"Lighter's inside."

He caught it in the air and stayed where he was, taking his time to take one out, light it up and replace the lighter inside. Sam still stared at him. Careful eyes watching him inhale deeply, lips closing around the yellow filter, a small pout as he blew the smoke upwards. He looked at her then, catching her staring, but she didn't mind, eyes still locked on his form. Daryl took a tentative step towards her, reaching out to carefully give the pack back.

"Not gonna pull the knife on you, Daryl," Sam finally spoke out of her shock, looking down at her feet and smoking the cigarette again.

He huffed out a quick laugh. "Jus' being careful."

"What you want?" she said, going straight to the point.

"D's mad," he delivered as if it explained his presence

"Boo-hoo".

"Kept talkin' 'bout how he's gonna get back at ya".

"Not afraid of him."

"Ya should be."

"And why's that?"

He raised his voice a little. "You know why," he stated, getting visibly annoyed.

"Yeah, I hurt his fuckin' masculinity," Sam's voice sounded louder as she looked up back at him. "And I'll hurt it more if he comes near me. I told ya I can take care of myself."

"Ya can't if he ain't alone," his voice chanted very clearly in her ears.

Sam could tell he was getting pissed. "Oh, he ain't gonna be alone?" Merle gonna help him? Or you?"

"Not us," he mumbled. "We got nothin' to do with it."

"Funny, Daryl, how in all the years we've been neighbors, you've never spoken to me until today." She paused to take a puff, her back no longer against the fence as she turned to him. "Ya know how long I lived there? Eighteen fuckin' years. Was a freakin' kid, and so were you. Tried to talk to you at first, remember that? Only time you talked to me was to say fuck off. Now ya wanna talk? Alert me? What is it?"

"Look, I ain't never done anything to you," he flicked the butt of the cigarette away. It fell on the curb, the still lit ember flying around. "Or Merle. We don't need all this hate."

"So Merle never did nothing to me?" she inquired indignantly. "You really think that?"

"What, did he?" Daryl challenged

"You think humiliating me, scaring the fuck outta me with the things he say, the gestures he makes is nothing? He fuckin' threatens me every time he sees me. That's nothin'?"

"He never touched you," he said still pissed but a little less forcefully

Sam also lowered her voice. "It's a matter of time."

"Merle ain't no rapist." He took one step closer.

"Speaks and acts like one." She flicked the cigarette away as well and drained the cup of coffee that was still in her hand, grimacing because it had gone cold. "And you, I don't know why you're talkin' to me now. You hear what him and those fuckers say and you see them do all kinds'a things and all you do is just sit there, doin' nothin'."

"Ya know what? Forget it!" Daryl barked angrily, stepping away from Sam. "Trying to warn ya and ya keep bitchin' at me," he turned to go away. "Fuck you."

Sam closed her eyes and took a deep breath. As she reopened hem, she watched him walk away for a moment, his steps denouncing just how angry he was.

"Hey!" she called aloud and he stopped and turned, already far away. "When?" She asked him.

"Tonight," he yelled back.

"I'll be ready for him."

Sam had been going to an adult education program in a community center of Savannah for about half a year now. She had dropped out of school before high school. It was a decision she couldn't regret more. Now she saw herself as a thirty-two year old adult education student, a waitress at a cheap diner, living in one of the poorest and most dangerous neighborhoods in the city, with no perspectives of getting out of there.

And craving for a glass of wine. Or a bottle.

She lit yet another cigarette, taking a deep puff and closing her eyes for a moment. She'd been in this position for almost two hours, standing at her bedroom window, looking out, hidden by the shade. Her window allowed her to look out at the front yard, the unkempt yellowish grass, and old, rusty barbecue grill abandoned there for a long time. The family across the street was fighting again, unrecognizable yelled words filling the silent, deserted street.

The only light in the house was in the living room, the TV also on, soundless. There was a talent show on tonight. Bobbi-Jo was out. Again, of course. Her roommate – Sam preferred to call her that – was out more often than not. Sam thought it was better this way, being alone at home tonight. Sam knew something bad was about to happen. D was coming, she was sure of that. She questioned herself as to why she had believed what Daryl said that morning, but the fact was that she did. Merle's voice could he heard from inside the house next door, speaking loudly as he usually did, although he didn't have friends over tonight.

That was weird; it was Saturday. He always had friends over on the weekends.

Sam had been watching the right side of the street attentively, guessing that if someone came, he'd come from the Dixon's house direction, but movement by the left side caught her attention. Two figures approached and she imagined they'd come from the empty field there was at the end of the street. They lurked in the shadows until the street light allowed her to see their faces. She took a moment to recognize them, and was glad to see it wasn't Merle or Daryl. She tried to remember the name of the second men who was walking with D, maybe it was Owen, or Morty.

There was no chill in her spine this time. She was ready.

The two men approached her front steps and tried the door, finding it locked. Nobody in this neighborhood left their door unlocked, especially at night. Sam put her cigarette down in the ashtray that sat at the window frame and withdrew from it slowly, heading to the door that led to the living room. Standing there, she could see their shadows going around the house, moving to the kitchen door. With another couple of steps, she was by the kitchen counter that separated it from the living room, and paused there, taking a deep breath. She felt calm and prepared, but her heart insisted on beating fast.

The door clicked open after a moment and was pushed in with a careful, slow shove. Sam heard it creak but nobody came through it for a moment. D took his time in appearing, only his head first, taking in the space in front of him. He saw Sam then, standing right there on the opposite side of the kitchen counter. His eyes hardened instantly, a creepy disparity with the smile bloomed in his lips.

"What are you doing here?", Sam asked breaking the silence, chin raised.

"Well, well, well", the man drawled, taking a step into the kitchen; Behind him, the second men followed close, also looking around, "Not so brave now, are ya?"

"You should leave," she affirmed, eyeing Owen – or Morty, as he took careful, slow steps into the living room, while D stood where he was.

"Yeah, not gonna happen, sugar," D licked his teeth.

"Don't think ya understand," Sam said with a smirk. "Ya should go…For your sake."

They laughed, both men exchanging amused, yet still hardened looks.

"Say please, sweetass," the second man said from now almost behind Sam. "Always wanted to know what ya'd sounded like beggin' me."

"This is because of last night, ain't it?", Sam asked looking over her shoulder at him and them back at D. He had taken a couple more steps towards her. "Thought you said you were only kiddin'. No big deal, huh?"

Behind her, the man snorted just as D jawed "Well, ya see… Thing is, Samantha, I ain't actually foolin' around. Not kiddin' at all."

"Yeah, thought so. So what, you couldn't get me then, so had to bring by a friend as a backup, 'cause ya didn't think you could do that by yourself?"

"Can take ya easy on ma own, girl," D opened his arms and shrugged, "but I ain't no stingy guy, ya know?" He stepped towards her one more time, now closer. _Just close enough._ "Got no problems sharin' stuff with ma boys."

"I ain't no stuff, D", Sam stated, her voice still collected even as her eyes traveled around the room to take in Morty – or Owen and D again.

 _Don't hesitate…_

"And just so ya know…" with a whisper, Sam took a slow, deliberate step towards D. "My name's not Samantha."

With a sudden intake of breath, Sam raised her right arm, the heel of her hand connecting upwards with his nose. He cried out, hands flying to cover his face. As much as Sam wanted to see him bleed for the second time in twenty-four hours, she had no time. The man behind grabbed her, arms circling her shoulders from behind, holding her strongly.

"Chill out, angry bird!" he growled in her ear, taking the opportunity to bury his face in her neck. Sam almost puked; he stank.

"Fuckin' bitch!", D cried yet again, hands dropping allowing her to see blood oozing from his broken nose, even as she struggled against the arms around her torso. He licked the nose blood out of his stubble and then smirked dangerously. "Told ya, ya cunt, ain't gonna mind taming ya."

His smile dropped, though, and Sam saw surprise in his widening eyes when he saw her reach for her waistband.

"Owen, look out!" D yelled.

 _Oh, so it's Owen._

Owen couldn't react fast enough. Sam knew he was distracted by grinding his hips against her bottom, grunting, arms keeping her in place. She raised her arm, fueled by disgust, and lowered it strongly behind her.

He screamed and let go.

She didn't know where she hit him, but she heard his heavy weight hit the floor, his movement making the knife slide out of him and remain in her hand. D lunged himself at her and she raised the knife hand again, but he was faster than she had expected. With the force of his weight, he pushed her to the ground, falling in top of her and holding her arms down. She struggled and screamed without even noticing it, but he was nearly twice her size. As she fought him, he laughed, drops of spit and blood falling from his open mouth to her cheek.

She was probably going to vomit after it all was over.

D used his knee to press her right forearm on the ground. It hurt badly and she couldn't move for a painful moment, worried her bone might break. He took the knife she was still gripping in her hand and pressed it to her throat.

"Now how does it feel, huh?" he roared and a shower of spit fell down on her. "How does the other side of the knife feel?"

"You're a coward, ya know that?" Sam whispered enraged up at him. "And fuckin' pathetic, 'cause ya can't get a girl to want to fuck ya!"

"Funnier that way." D replied and licked his blood again. D was sitting on her stomach, just under her breasts, and he left her left arm free.

 _Damn males, always underestimating woman._

Her free arm reached down for a second knife, hidden inside her boot. Her fingers brushed over the handle for a moment before they closed firmly around it. She felt the coldness of the blade slide over her skin, leaving a burning sensation behind as she cut herself pulling it out. There was no more thought then. She didn't aim, she didn't plan. In a second, the knife was stuck in the side of his neck, blood oozing out, rolling down neck and shoulders, raining down onto her face. She screamed looking up at D still on top of her, his eyes wide in despair, mouth opened in a silent, desperate scream. She pushed him away from her with all the force she could at the moment and he fell to the side, unmoving. She sat up, unable to think of anything other than the layer of blood and spit on her face.

Behind her, she heard Own shout "You fuckin' whore!", but just barely over the sound of her own heart pumping on her ears. She looked back over her shoulder and saw him getting up from the floor, cradling his hurt thigh. He was behind her and holding the knife D dropped. "You killed him, bitch!"

Sam knew she had no time to react. In that split second, all she thought was _fuck_ , looking up at his red, ire filled eyes, but something hit him on the shoulder and he screamed again, the knife falling from his hand to the blood washed floor faster than his own body.

Sam's head whirled around looking for the source of whatever it was that had happened, and she saw Daryl walk into the room, crossbow raised and aimed at Owen, who was now crawling backwards until his back hit the couch, right hand cradling left shoulder.

"Son of a bitch!" he shrieked.

"Shut up!" Daryl barked approaching and looking down at his pathetic form. "Another word and the next one's through your eye".

Astonished, Sam saw another form entering her space as well and moved her eyes from Daryl to see Merle also moving in. The man leaned down to get the knife on the floor and away from Owen's reach. He stood by Sam's side and handed it back to her, he blade coated in thick, dripping blood.

"Think this is yours," he said calmly.

She looked up at him from where she was still sitting on the floor, legs straight in front of her, mouth agape. Soundless, she took it from Merle's hand and looked around to her other side. And saw D's lifeless body.

She had just killed a man.

Owen was silent and breathing hard, back still to the couch, a hand on his shoulder, the other on his thigh, both pressuring deep and painful wounds. His eyes were red and trained on D's body.

He was dead, blood pooling around him, lifeless, opened eyes staring up at the ceiling.

Sam was sitting on the other couch, hands resting on her knees, unable to tear her eyes off his inert form. "Bobbi-Jo's gonna kill me," she mumbled to herself and started patting her jeans pockets looking for her pack of cigarettes. She found it in her back pocket, all creased, and took one out. It was nearly broken in half, but she didn't mind. Placing it between her lips, her fingers trembled a little before she started patting herself again looking for the lighter.

Daryl approached her, lighting his own and offering light hers, too, without a word. She looked up at him for a moment before leaning in to light it. After she had taken the first puff, Daryl handed her a piece of cloth. "For your face", he grumbled as she took it, once again looking up at him questioningly. When she did nothing except for holding it, he made a swiping gesture over his own face.

"What are we gonna do?" Merle's hoarse voice came from the kitchen, pulling Sam out of a daze. "Can't call the cops."

"It was self defense," Daryl answered and Merle laughed.

"I don't want no cops pokin' around. You used the fuckin' crossbow as a fuckin' weapon. Wanna go to jail, too?"

They discussed it heatedly but in low voices. Everything else was silent. The house, the street, the neighbors. It was unnerving. Sam looked from D to the cloth Daryl gave her and stared at it for a second before bringing it up to scrub her face. It was cool – Daryl had wet it in the kitchen sink – and it made her snap back to reality.

"What about him?" she asked looking at Owen and the Dixons went quiet. She took another puff. "They broke in and attacked me. I was jus' defended myself. Ya heard me scream, came to help. You didn't kill anyone, I did."

"Should've killed him, too," Merle raised his voice and walked from the kitchen around the counter, stepped over D's body and crouched in front of Owen. The man's eyes widened impossibly and he flinched. "Smart, brave guy, huh, O?" Merle spoke slowly. "While we're at it, why don't ya tell me where the fuck you hid my dope, huh?"

Sam didn't want to hear it. She got up and went to the kitchen where Daryl was standing looking at the two men. "I don't fuckin' believe your brother", she told him. "A fuckin' crime scene and he wants to know about his meth."

"Ain't nobody gonna miss him," Daryl said. "Fuckin' junkie, no family."

"You're talkin' about Owen now, right?" Sam asked filling a glass of water from the sink, cigarette between two fingers. Daryl snorted rudely as she drank it quickly. "Rapists, both of 'em," she completed. "I just wish I'd done more to him before. Shoud've cut off his sorry excuse of a dick."

"I say we get rid of the body. Nobody gonna look for him." Merle suggested.

"What about him?" she asked, looking at Owen, surely considering dumping D's body an excellent option.

Merle got up and kept looking down at Owen. "Owen ain't gonna say a word, is he? He's good to go on girls and to steal from passed out friends, ain't ya, O? Give 'im someone bigger, he'd shit his pants. Ya owe me, O, gonna forget that?"

On the floor and looking up, wide eyed, he grumbled 'no' many times, terrified.

"Don't forget 'bout the girl here", Daryl said pointing at Sam with his hand. "Beat ya, didn't she?"

"Hey, ya got any food?" was what Merle said when he turned back towards the kitchen. "I'm starvin'."

Stunned, Sam stared at him, hips against the counter, deep frown on her face, cigarette still between her fingers, eyeing Merle with his slightly raised eyebrows, sincerely waiting for her to answer something.

"What?" she finally asked.

"Food?", he repeated, and the look he had was one other than the evil fun, lustful one he'd always given her. He seemed just normal; not exactly friendly, but simply like a regular person would treat their neighbor when saying hello on the sidewalk, instead of in their living room with a dead body between them.

"Hum, ah…" Sam mumbled, speechless. "The fridge," she finished motioning her thumb over her shoulder. Merle nodded and once again stepped over the dead man, went around the counter and joined her and Daryl inside the kitchen. He opened the fridge and crouched down to examine its contents, Sam's eyes glued to the back of his head and very aware of his movements, until Daryl caught her attention by poking her arm with a finger.

"Hey", he murmured and as she looked at her, eyes still somewhat perplexed. He continued. "You ok?"

"Yeah. They didn't hurt me."

"No, I mean…" he dragged on and pointed at D's body with his chin.

"Yeah," she repeated, trying to be clearer, needing to clear her throat before continuing. "He deserved it. I'd do that to any fuckin' rapist. Might jus' do that to Owen. Ain't gonna lose sleep for him."

Slowly, he nodded avoiding her eyes to instead look around, down at Merle and at the two men on the living room floor. The three of them were silent for a moment as Sam finished her cigarette and Merle fussed over how little food there was in the fridge.

Daryl turned around to lean back on the counter to avoid staring at D's dead body. "What the fuck…" Merle mumbled from nearly inside the fridge.

"Munchies?", Sam asked him as she pressed butt of her cigarette on a forgotten wooden ashtray that rested nearby.

"Course", he said, getting up and still looking inside it. "The fuck is it with all the veggies?"

"They're mine." She pointed at the lower shelves. "Lower shelves are mine, the upper are Bobbi's. Make sure ya don't touch any of hers, she goes nuts when someone–", she paused then, making Merle look at her, and she gave him a sudden smile. "You know what, knock yourself out!"

Merle laughed back, "There ya go". Sam turned away from him, and also from Daryl just then, feeling completely mesmerized by what was happening. Two men entering her house to assault her, her killing one of them with a knife to the neck, her nearly stranger neighbors coming to help her, having them both in her house since then, Merle speaking to her as if they were friends, and what freaked her out the most – herself, talking to him as if it was no big deal.

It had been a long time since she remembered any dream she had; perhaps she would wake up anytime now, and never even remember this insane dream. The taste of the cigarette in her mouth felt real, though. The smell of blood too, now mixed with an extremely sweet smell that, when Sam looked back at the men to figure it out, she saw it came from a Bosco chocolate syrup Merle was pouring directly into his open mouth. Daryl only shook his head. Sam wasn't sure if people could feel such clear, strong smells in dreams.

"Shit!" they heard Owen say, but none of them looked at him. Daryl fished his own pack of cigarettes from his jeans' back pocket. "What the fuck? Guys!" Owen spoke again, his voice more urgent.

"Hey, Pop Rocks!" Merle was fussing over the fridge again. "Why's Bobbi keeping Pop Rocks in the fridge?"

Sam shook her head, "She thinks…Geez, that the heat could make it explode."

Merle laughed aloud and Daryl snorted.

"Yeah, she ain't the smartest person I know." Sam agreed.

Merle was about to say something. Sam saw him open his mouth, but they were interrupted by Owen again, his voice loud and desperate, a tone that made it impossible for them to keep ignoring him. "No, no, no, shit! Fuck! Help me!"

They all turned at the same time. It sounded like something terrible was happening. Sam froze in place, brain working too hard to understand what she was seeing to make her own body take any kind of action. By her side, the Dixons were also silent, stiffened. They saw as D – whose dead body had been lying there for all that time, probably most of his blood now drenching the room's wooden floor – agitate with strange and unnatural movement a moment before he sat up, a grotesque sound coming out of his mouth, his back turned to them as he faced Owen, who was screaming in absolute terror and trying to stand up. Having lost his own amount of blood himself, Owen couldn't, his wounded leg slipping over D's blood.

With now more excited grunts, D moved towards him, crawling faster than he had sat up. Owen wailed for help franticly, as D moved over his sitting form until he reached the chubby, sweat-soaked flesh of his neck, where he urgently sank his teeth. Owen fought him with his only available arm, but it seemed to be no use, because D was biting and chewing and swallowing his flesh, and he kept doing it as if nothing had happened after Owen stopped fighting, blood oozing out of the wound fast enough to kill him. He had stopped screaming, dead…Just like his friend was. Or should have been.

Sam, Daryl and Merle stared at them, absolutely still. Paralyzed. Shocked. All Sam heard was her heart in her ears and, somewhere to her right side, labored breaths from the two men. Her stomach churned and she felt bile in her throat, and that was the only thing that made her sure she wasn't dreaming. She couldn't feel her legs.

D was still eating Owen, groaning, moaning, feeding.

By her side, Merle broke the silence, "D?" he asked uncertainly and it didn't sound like him, his voice trembling a little. As nothing happened, Merle stepped behind Sam and around the counter. "Doug?"

Sam had never known D's real name was Douglas, not Dead Dickhead.

D stopped moving then and she felt her heart go cold, knowing nothing good could possibly happen now. His groans also stopped for a moment as he turned around, still crouched, slowly. And when he faced them, the communal, strong intake of breath sounded over D's new groan. That was not D. D wasn't there, he was dead. His neck still carrying Sam's knife sticking out of it, blood still rolling down his chest, his eyes completely lifeless with a nauseating shade of grey, but yet he stared at Merle, who was the one standing closer to him. Merle took a step back, mumbling "What in the hell?" just as D stood up and took an unsteady step towards him, moaning wordlessly.

At his back, the front door clicked with the sound of a key turning. The door was pushed open and the sound attracted D, who stopped mid-step towards Merle and turned around. Bobbi-Jo appeared under the doorframe, tight black dress showing up much of her thighs and a lot of her breasts, and she was laughing, completely unaware, pulling some random guy inside with her.

"Bobbi, no!", Sam screamed coming out of her shock as D lunged his dead body towards her.

"Run!" Daryl shouted by her side.

It was no use. In a second, his teeth were on her face, her cheek coming out in one bite. She yelped and fell to the ground, D on top of her, biting more chunks out of the right side of her face. The man who came with her backed to the wall, close to Sam's bedroom door, eyes and mouth wide open but soundless.

None of them saw Owen getting up, flesh missing from his neck and chest. Just as he was crawling across the room, the Dixons saw him, his eyes as dead as a doornail, and they both seemed to wake from a daze at the same time. Daryl moved out of the kitchen towards Owen just as he raised his dead body from the ground to stand up right in front of Bobbi's friend. His teeth were already sunk into the guy's neck when Daryl reached and tackled him away, only to turn himself into Owen's chosen meal.

Sam still hadn't moved, watching nervously as Daryl pushed the dead man away from him over and over.

On the other side of the room, Merle had shoved D away from Bobbi-Jo and was now fighting him, punching him in the face repeatedly. Looking from one fight to the other, nervousness making her hesitate – and once again hate herself for it – Sam tried to decide who she should help, and how, for that matter. With difficulty, Sam registered that Owen seemed to be much closer to Daryl than D was to Merle, so she forced herself to move, the knife Merle had given back to her in hand. She rushed over from behind Owen and, without a second of thought, stabbed him right on the nape of his neck. Owen's corpse groaned louder and his movement slowed a little, giving Daryl the opportunity to move away. Sam had to stare, though, eyes wide, because Owen hadn't stopped moving. He had a knife jammed in the base of its skull, but he still moved.

"We gotta get out! Merle!" Daryl yelled, as they both turned for a moment to look at him after a particularly worrying yelp. D was on top of him now, Merle keeping his jaws away by holding him up by the neck. There was blood oozing everywhere and cursing words could be heard coming out between Merle's clenched teeth.

Daryl tried to keep Owen away from him and Sam saw that his movements seemed slower now, so she decided to go help Merle. Her knife was still stuck in his neck where she has stabbed him before. In one fluid movement she reached for it, took it out of his flesh and slammed it onto his temple. She felt bone under the flesh the knife perforated, unable to get in.

"Son of a bitch!" she cried out, reaching for his head with her other hand and grabbing a handful of his hair, pulling it back and further away from Merle. D's face turned up, desperate groans coming from his open, near toothless mouth. She saw he looked exactly like his old self, except for his eyes and the fact that he was trying to eat Merle. Fighting hesitation once again, Sam tightened her hand around D's hair, raised her knife hand and stabbed down, blade easily perforating his eye socket. He stopped moving instantly, groans dying out, and his body fell heavily on top of Merle.

"The brain!" Merle shouted from under D's body, who now they believed to be really dead this time, understanding it at the same moment Sam did.

"Daryl! Hit the brain!" she also screamed.

Daryl ran from Owen just as he heard them and Owen looked around, lost for a moment. Sam crouched behind D and Merle, who remained there under the dead weight. When Owen focused his attention on Daryl again, he had already reached his crossbow from where it had been resting against the wall by the kitchen door. He aimed and shot an arrow right into Owen's eye. The groans stopped and his body remained still for a second before dropping to the ground.

Though only for a moment, silence filled the room once again.

Merle angrily shoved D away from him and sat up looking down at himself seeing all the blood dripping. "What in the fuckin' hell was that?" he questioned aloud, trembling, now looking at his hands. He wasn't answered. Sam stood up, breathing hard, hands raised to her head. Daryl lowered the crossbow that had still been aimed at Owen. He felt like throwing up.

They went silent, the sound of their breaths the only sound in the house. It was like a war zone; blood everywhere.

The silence was broken by a groan, a different one, coming from somewhere on the ground. All three swirled around towards it, the crossbow raised again. Bobbi-Jo was moving, sitting up and looking right at Sam. Her jaw moved, slamming closed with a noise, half her face and a large chunk of her neck gone. Sam flinched.

"Let's go. We gotta go." Sam whispered urgently. The unknown man, his back to the wall and neck torn open, also groaned, much louder. "Now! Get up, Merle!" she shouted down at him and moved to the kitchen door. "Daryl, move!"


	3. Day 11

Day 11

It all happened too fast.

Sam had run away from the house through the kitchen door, closely followed by the heavy, hurried steps from Daryl and Merle. Daryl ran faster than her and guided the other two around Sam's house to reach his own. As they reached the porch, Sam looked back and saw Bobbi-Jo's dead, stumbling but surprisingly agile body turning the corner, seemingly looking for them, the half face she still had with perfect makeup, but her eyes void of any life.

They had entered the Dixon's house, locked all the doors, and had been there ever since. The house had three entrances; the front door, the kitchen door to the side, which led to another small porch, and the basement hatch door, that had always been locked and blocked by an old wardrobe and had never been a viable way in and out. The kitchen door was now blocked by an old and very heavy dresser, cardboard blocking the glass view. The front door, the only one that was left unblocked, was constantly guarded.

If she were to tell, Sam wouldn't know if it was the electricity, the phone signal or the internet that went down first. She didn't remember if they searched through the house looking for things that could be useful before or after they saw dozens of dead people walking around on the street, Bobbi-Jo among them. The battery radio still worked, but no useful information came out of it.

It was a virus. It was a parasite. It was bacteria. The cure was known. No, that cure didn't work. It was the end of the world. Don't let yourself get bit by one of them. That's how you die, and then turn. We will find the cure; we've got the best people working on it. Don't get bit until then. The CDCs all over the country were working on it. Go to Atlanta. Go to Atlanta. There's a center, food and shelter until the cure is found. It's safe. Don't get bit and go to Atlanta.

"Yeah, but that ain't true, is it?" Merle dragged in the same old, drunken voice, bottle of beer in hand, his back to the arm of the couch, a leg resting along it. "Sons of bitches don't know nothin'."

"What are you on about?" Daryl asked from his watch by the window.

"D wasn't bit, was he now?"

"Nope," Sam answered from the other couch where she was lying. "Died from a stab in the neck. Only one who bit him was me."

"Wha'?" Merle questioned, frowning.

"I bit him, you don't remember that?" she said as she sat up, her bare feet resting on the worn out, dusty mat. "The night before. And I sure as hell ain't one of those fuckin' dead things", she got up, leaning over to reach for a pack of cigarettes from the coffee table. "So ya right, son of bitches know nothing."

"We don't know he wasn't bit," Daryl said looking at Sam as she approached him putting one cigarette between her lips and handing him the pack. "He coulda been. Damn fucker was so hammered all the time, coulda forget it happened."

"Or that." Sam agreed.

Daryl threw the pack at Merle after he took a cigarette for himself and they went silent again, like they were most part of time when Daryl and Merle weren't fighting, foul mouthed and disagreeing on everything. Sam hadn't slept more than a few minutes, but she felt alert, she had never needed many hours asleep to feel fine. What worried her now was that, after ten days in that house, their pantry had been emptied while they just sat around, ate, fought and waited for something to happen. She worried that, after so long, nothing was actually going to change. Not if they didn't take action, any kind of action.

"I'm going home." Sam broke the silence after a couple of hours.

"You insane?" Merle asked. "Ya can't go back there. The street's taken by those things. Your house's taken."

"You gonna end up like 'em." Daryl completed.

"Good to see you guys agreeing on something." Sam crossed her arms and glared at them. "I'm gonna take things. Food, clothes, first aid kit, weapons. Lots of knives in the kitchen, a pistol in Bobbi-Jo's bedroom. A rifle on the wall that might still work if we find ammo. Things on the fridge might still be good. Gonna pack all I can, you should too if we're gonna make it to Atlanta."

"I ain't goin' to no fuckin' Atlanta." Merle sat up, both feet now on the mat. "Won't be nothin' there. Shelter and food for free to everyone? Bullshit. Rich people, is all."

"So you gonna stay here?" Sam questioned opening her arms to gesture around the living room. "And do what? Starve to death? Thirst yourself dry? You don't even wanna go next door for supplies, how ya gonna get food?"

He didn't answer, only crossed his arms, shaking his head, a stubborn smirk still on his lips.

"We know how to kill 'em." Daryl said turning to Sam again. "Just gotta stab in the brain and don't let 'em come close."

"I got two good hunting knives there, one in Owen, the other in D. Should get 'em back too."

They moved at the same time, saying nothing else, towards the kitchen table where they had previously set out a sort of kitchen knives. Daryl grabbed two of them as well as the crossbow. Sam chose a big butcher knife and two smaller ones, and moved to the door sheathing them into her waistband being followed by Daryl.

"Ok, gotta stay together. Don't go wondering alone." Sam told him.

"I'll have your back while you take the things." He agreed and they gave each other a sharp nod.

Daryl pulled the door open and they went outside. The noise of the door and their steps attracted the attention of two dead people who were closest to the house, by the sidewalk. They turned their heads in a slow motion, but as their dead eyes found the two living people on the porch, it was like their bodies came to life, groaning excitedly and taking stumbling but fast steps in their direction.

"Noise attracts them." Daryl stated what Sam was thinking a moment before shooting an arrow right into the eye of the male one. They went down the steps and on the bottom Daryl stopped to reload the crossbow, hands working on it but head raised and eyes looking around attentively. The second dead, a female, was closer to Sam now. "In the brain!" Daryl reminded her.

She remembered how soft and easy it had been to stick the knife into D's eye, so that's what she went for before it could even get close enough to her. Blood splattered on her as the eyeball popped. All Sam could think was that if this was how one got infected with whatever that was, she was screwed.

"Let's go." Sam put the thought aside for now and they ran across the yard towards her house. There was one more there and Daryl's arrow reached it easily. As they got to the steps, Sam heard a groan and looked back. It was Bobbi-Jo, or what used to be her. Sam stared at her as her corpse started going to her. After ten days of her death, her figure was now something completely different. Her exposed flesh had started decaying; her eyes seemed even whiter than before, what was left of the skin of her face a nauseating shade of gray. Her eye makeup had oozed down her cheek.

"Sam!" Daryl's voice called from the porch. Sam didn't remember having ever heard him say her name before. She hadn't been sure if he knew it.

"Go, I got her." She told him and heard his steps entering the house only a moment later. Sam let Bobbi-Jo approach, less agile than she had been days before, but still quick. When she was close enough, Sam grabbed her by the neck, keeping her dead, moaning form away at arm's length. Sam's heart bit fast inside her chest, her throat suddenly tightening. Bobbi was small, same size as Sam, but had always been thinner as an effect of too many drugs.

In the moment she looked into Bobbi-Jo's dead eyes, she remembered years of having her present in her life. The moment she had met her, her father bringing her to their house and introducing her as his girlfriend. She remembered thinking how could she be her dad's girlfriend if she looked to be her own age. Later, she had found out Bobbi-Jo was only seven years older than herself. Sam remembered them moving from Atlanta to Savannah. She hadn't wanted to. Her dad didn't really want to either, but Bobbi-Jo had insisted. That's when they stared living together, and it was hell on earth. They fought all the time when her dad wasn't home, and in the beginning Bobbi-Jo would pretend to be the victim when he arrived, but after a while she didn't even do that anymore. Sam hated her. She hated her with all her might, she hated her for all the horrible things she told her, for the physical fights, for making her father suffer, for cheating on him, for spending all the money he had gathered from years of hard work in a carpentry. For pretending in front of friends and family that she was suffering when he was dying from cancer. For getting herself a new boyfriend less than a month after he died.

She hated having had to stay in the house. She hated having Bobbi-Jo still live in the house. They each owned half of it, neither wanted to leave it to the other.

"Yeah, you bitch?" Sam snarled at her. "How'd ya like that? All the trouble ya had and that's how ya die. Hope it was as painful as _his_ death." She raised the knife, eyes burning with all the remaining anger she carried with her all this time, "That's for my dad!"

The knife entered her left eye and Sam held it in place for a long moment. The knot in her throat tightened painfully, the rage in her eyes being instantly replaced by tears. As Sam pulled he knife out, a wet noise following a splash of stinky blood, Bobbi-Jo's body fell to the ground. With a sob, Sam felt no satisfaction; it just didn't feel like it was enough. Leaning over, she stabbed a few more times, into her other eye and even into the hard bone of her temple and forehead, and she didn't know it, but she was groaning in anger at each stab. Finally, Sam stopped and straightened up, breathing hard, staring down at the disfigured head. The hand holding the knife was shaking, a tear escaping her eye.

When she turned, unable to look at the mass of flesh on her feet any longer, she saw Daryl standing under the doorframe, eyes watching her carefully, head turned downwards, crossbow hanging on his side.

"It's clear." he said quietly when Sam just looked at him, eyes empty. "Was just one of 'em inside."

Without a word, Sam climbed the four steps towards the door, but Daryl didn't move. She stopped on the step below him and looked up, eyebrows raised in question.

"You ok?" he murmured.

"Stop asking me that."

Her voice sounded stronger than she felt at the moment; she took a step up and passed by Daryl, their shoulders touching briefly. Stopping just by the front door, she looked around. It had been days, the house and the bodies smelled horrible, putridly. She didn't look at the corpses for long. Daryl had already closed the kitchen door, so the only way in and out was through the front. He was taking his arrow out of the eye of the random guy Bobbi-Jo had brought home that night. Sam felt bile on her throat again at the smell of the living room of the house she had called home for so many years. It didn't feel like it anymore.

"Go, I'll keep watch." Her neighbor said while he cleaned the tip of an arrow on the fabric of the couch.

Sam didn't take long to go through the whole house. She emptied the cabinet of canned food into a backpack, clothes she thought could be functional into a handbag, the two different pairs of boots she had and one she took from Bobbi-Jo. The carton of Morley packs, half a bottle of whiskey. That was for the boys. The first aid kit from under the bathroom sink. A couple of soap bars, toothbrush and toothpaste. She took the gun, checking it was loaded, two boxes of bullets from Bobbi-Jo's wardrobe, knives from the kitchen, the rifle from the wall, and that was it.

"Hey," Daryl stopped touching a finger softly on her shoulder as she was heading to the door carrying all the bags by herself, without asking for help. She stopped in a halt and looked up at him, a frown on her face. "Thought ya'd want this."

He handed her a picture he took from a frame on the living room wall. Sam saw the back of it first, a sloppy handwriting that said " _Jack and Sam at Chastain Park, spring 1989_ ". Turning it around, she saw her nine year old self sitting on top of a slide, smiling widely, blonde hair shining under the sun. Standing by her side, smiling awkwardly at the camera, her father, sandy hair graying on the sides, unkempt stubble, dark brown eyes lit up with contentment.

Sam felt her throat once again and an uncomfortable prickle in her eyes, and she just nodded without looking up at Daryl. She folded the picture carefully twice and reached around to her back pocket, tucking it in. She took a deep breath in and looked up at Daryl for just a second before looking out the door once again.

"Let's go."

They both stopped on the step, though, Daryl once again higher than her, when they saw Merle ride his bike out of the garage of the next door house. He rode not once looking back, speeding away with a loud rumble, dead corpses trying to rush after it.

"Son of a bitch!" Daryl shouted as he rushed past Sam down the steps. She ran after him, crossing the yard to his porch and into the house. When Sam entered, seconds after Daryl, he was rushing over the other rooms of his house. She left all the bags by the front door before going looking for him.

"Fuckin' bastard!" He was yelling when they met again on the corridor.

"He just left?" She asked him.

"You saw him leave, didn't ya?" He answered angrily.

Sam raised her hands lifting her eyebrows in affront. Daryl just rushed past her mumbling "fuck" and she followed him into Merle's bedroom.

"His stuff still here." He noticed as she stood by the door.

"He'll come back," she said, arms crossed. "he wouldn't leave you in this-"

"-the hell he wouldn't!" Daryl raised his voice again. "Is wha' Merle do, he leaves. Not the first time." His voice was bitter as he strode past her. When she reached the living room, having followed him one more time, Daryl was picking up one of the bags from the floor. "We should go."

"What if he comes back?" She asked crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah, maybe in a couple of months." Daryl snorted out.

"C'mon Daryl, we don't know that."

"You know nothing 'bout Merle." he snarled turning to her, a backpack over one shoulder. "He ain't coming back!"

"Daryl, listen, he's just left, you sure you don't want to wait at least a bit?"

"Why do you care if he come back anyway?"

"I don't, really, but I know that if we leave now you might not find your brother again." She uncrossed her arms and took a couple of steps towards him, speaking calmly. "We don't know what's gonna happen, how things are out there… What if you don't see him again? What if you don't see him again just 'cause you couldn't wait a few hours?"

Daryl looked from Sam to the door and back again, unsure, biting the skin of his lower lip.

"It's past three, anyway," Sam kept talking. "it'll get dark soon; I don't think we should travel at night. If not for Merle let's at least just wait 'til morning 'cause it might be safer."

Daryl stared at her, worry creasing his forehead, still biting his lip. He nodded sharply once after a moment and dropped the bag to the ground again, then moved away from her. In the hallway leading to his bedroom, he said "You watch over, I'll take a nap."

Daryl woke up in his darkened bedroom and the deafening silence told him that Merle was not back. He wasn't surprised, just once again disappointed. Next thing he thought about was Sam; he'd slept longer than planned as a result of at least two nights without sleep. With a grunt, he got up from the bed and made his slow way to the bathroom, feeling his way instinctively rather than by sight. Inside the tiny bathroom, he felt for the candle and matches that had been resting on the sink and lit it up. His reflection on the mirror was somewhat phantasmagoric, lit upwards by the flicking flame. He stared at himself for a moment, his contempt clear on his features, purplish shadows under his eyes, uneven stubble growing. He could have snarled at himself. If that was what the girl he had in his house right now saw when she looked at him, he felt sorry for her. Stuck in this old, stinky house with the Dixons in the end of the world. Or, Daryl reminded himself with a snort, _one_ Dixon.

He decided he should shave. It had been too long now, even though he was never able to grow a real full beard, and if they were going to hit the road tomorrow, he should do it tonight. He took a moment to use the toilet before starting to do it, but was surprised by the complete lack of water in the pipes.

"Hey, we got no water." He said entering the living room, taking a couple of seconds to find Sam's figure standing by the window, looking out through a gap in the curtain. It was very dark there, no candles lit and he could only see her silhouette. He saw she turned her head to look at him. "Jus' warnin' ya so ya'd have no surprise in here", he pointed over his shoulder in the direction o he bathroom.

"Yeah," her voice was low and a little hoarse. "I tried to cook somethin' and the water was out. We got one more can of soup… Then jus' things I bought from home."

She turned to the window again and Daryl stood there staring at her. Not that she saw it. Her eyes were trained on the street, where now she could see six dead people roaming. Their moans and crickets and cicadas singing were the soundtrack of the night.

"You okay?"

Sam jumped slightly at the sound of his voice. It was closer than she expected it to be. She turned her head to him sharply.

"Sorry." he said smirking.

"Jesus, Daryl" she turned away from him again, brows furred. "I'm fine. Told ya not to ask me that."

"Is jus'…" he shrugged. "Voice's weird. You been cryin'?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, still looking out. "No."

"Alright." he stated and moved away from her in an instant. Sam followed him with her eyes, curiosity tightening the crease of her brows. Was he not going to insist even a little bit?

"Did ya eat?" he asked already from the kitchen.

"No. Not hungry, you go ahead." she responded mechanically, trying to see him in the dark, unsuccessfully. In a minute he was back, the cold can of soup in hand, half of its content in a bowl that he handed to her. She didn't take it, arms still crossed.

"Eat." he told her firmly.

Sighing and rolling her eyes, she took the bowl and they ate silently, both standing looking out.

"There's Mr. Walker from 4th street." Daryl said around a mouthful of soup, pointing to the dead chubby, old man wearing suspenders.

"Yeah, a dead Walker." Sam joked in a dead serious voice.

He chuckled for a moment but caught himself and lowered his head to his can of soup quickly, going silent again.

"Why did you help me?" Sam asked suddenly after finishing her half soup.

"Wha'?"

"That day, with D." she turned a little more to him. "You went all the way to the diner to warn me about him. Why did ya do that?"

He shrugged, "Was in the area."

"Seriously, Daryl."

He looked out again, his expression closing up, and was silent for a moment. Sam just waited, staring up at him.

"Couldn't hear him say what he'd do to ya and do nothin'."

He remembered clearly what had happened after Sam had escaped D that night. She had been able to defend herself, but he'd been ready. He'd jump in any moment if she needed, and he almost did when D kissed her. He was already going to them when she bit him and raised her knife, making him stop. After D went back and sat on the porch couch, laughter gone and simple, pure hatred in his words, he described exactly what he'd do to her to make her pay. In details. In the end of the night, Daryl had punched D in the face for taking a cigarette from him, just as an excuse. He knew, at the moment he'd been speaking, he'd never let those things happen. The words disgusted him; he couldn't imagine permitting them to actually happen. During his sordid monologue, Daryl had exchanged a look with Merle and knew his brother was thinking the same.

"Alright." Sam said, but continued, "Okay, you warned me, I told you I could take care of myself, but then you showed up there and helped me, and stick around and helped with the… Walker things, and then took me in here, and I've been here for days. It's 'bout all that I'm asking. Why you helping me?"

"Would you rather I didn't?" he turned his head to her, annoyance clear in his voice.

"Oh, c'mon Daryl!" Sam threw her arms up.

"'Cause you needed, is why!" he cried, getting pissed. It was easy to piss him off, Sam had learned already. "You our neighbor twenty fuckin' years, don't gotta be best buddies with someone to help."

"Well, you're right we ain't best buddies, but we were never even a little bit. We ain't never talked to each other, and now I'm here practically living in your house!"

"It's the fuckin' walker apocalypse out there!" Daryl yelled angrily pointing out the window. "What a fuckin' cold blooded motherfucker ya take me for? Ya thought I'd let the men rape and torture you, and then leave you to die alone eaten by the dead?" he snarled and took a step further, standing very close to her. Sam looked up at him, towering at least ten inches above her, but she didn't flinch or blink. "That the kinda man ya take me for?"

He saw her swallow; her eyes locked to his, and only then realized how close he was to her. He'd never been that close before and now, even in the dark, he could see details in her that he'd never had before. A little scar on her left eyebrow, interrupting it for millimeters. Very light freckles on her cheekbone. A very light shade of the bruise D had given her days before.

Sam realized she should say something. Daryl hadn't moved after his question, so maybe it hadn't been rhetorical. She soundlessly cleared her throat of the lump that had formed there before saying in a very low voice, "Torture?"

Daryl nodded slowly, his jaws clenching tightly. "Yeah."

And yet, he didn't move.

"Guess I never thanked you." Sam whispered.

That made him lower his eyes and turn again to the window. "'S nothin'." he mumbled tightly.

"You helped me avoid rape and torture. Guess that's somethin'."

Before moving away from him, feeling too awkward and uncomfortable being so close to him, Sam touched his bicep quickly, squeezing it lightly before letting go.


	4. Day 12

_Day 12_

The world was upside down around Sam. Her hands firmly planted to the hard, sun heated surface of the edge of the building, she looked out, the sly blue and bright where the ground should be. She was smiling, her heart racing, a sense of freedom and adrenalin making her very veins feeling the raw freedom. With a hard push of her hands, she jumped, her body turning around itself three times before her feet hit the ground. She fell to a crouch and took a moment to look around. She was in a field, the building behind her back, green grass under her feet, and she was alone. With a new smile, she got up and halted to a run. After finding the perfect speed, she jumped, and kept jumping, hands and feet hitting the ground over and over, dreadlocks flying around in a freedom dance. At the end of the field she stopped, breathing hard, heart thudding happily, feeling like she was exactly where she belonged, like nothing could ever ruin that feeling, and she felt like jumping her way back to the building and climbing the walls to the roof again, just so she could jump down one more time. Eyes shining with excitement, Sam turned around.

The green grassed field behind her was gone. Where it should have been trimmed and bright colored, the grass was tall, grayish, fluttering on the breeze, the same breeze that brought a smell that made her nose crinkle in disgust, her smile fade, her eyes harden. Something was moving among the tall grass, the putrid smell increasing with its approximation. After a moment she saw it; the rotting corpse of Bobbi-Jo approaching, moaning and groaning and snapping her jaws at her, rapidly approaching, though stumbling on her unsteady feet. Sam looked down at herself to check on weapons, anything she could use to defend herself. She had nothing; no weapons or clothes on. She could feel her dreads scratching softly over her bare back, the breeze sending chills over her skin, her bare feet planted on the water pooled earth. She looked back at Bobbi, dread rising over her throat, and tried a step back, only to find her feet stuck on mud. Looking down again, she realized the thick, fetid mud was as red as blood. She fought against it, trying to pull her feet out, trying to escape; Bobbi was too close now and Sam knew for a fact that she was going to get bit, Bobbi would take her revenge for her stabbing her face repeatedly, she would turn her into one of them.

The heavy weight of a hand fell on her shoulder and she opened her mouth to scream, but her lips didn't open and no sound rose from her throat. She couldn't move, and the hand shook her shoulder once, and then again, roughly. She wanted to scream, to look back and see who was it, but her body simply didn't respond to her commands.

"Sam. Sam!", she heard an urgent whisper behind her back. "Wake up!"

Her eyes opened and her body finally moved as she jumped up on the couch, quickly registering the Dixon's living room and Daryl standing by her, his wrist firmly held in her hand, his eyes wide in surprise. She had seemed to be sleeping peacefully, he had felt almost sorry for waking her up, but at the moment her eyes opened, it all changed. She cried out and jumped, a hand grabbing his wrist with surprising strength, her breath ragged and eyes darting around quickly.

"Didn't mean to startle you." he assured her. "Ya alright?"

"Shit," Sam whispered as she let go of him. "Sorry."

"'S okay." Daryl straightened up before her.

Observing the room around them a little better, Sam saw the light had just started to come from outside, the pale surroundings showing the sun was still rising. She rubbed her eyes and sat up.

"Fuck, Daryl, we don't have to go so soon –"

"Merle is back." he stopped her.

She looked up at him, saying nothing. He nodded, confirming what he had just said before turning to go stand by the window, their usual spot for the last few days. Sam jumped off the couch and joined him, looking out through the curtain gap below him. Outside, she saw that Merle had just parked his bike in front of the garage and was dismounting it. He had an enormous bag hanging across his back and, from where Sam and Daryl stood they could see he was covered in dirt and blood.

"Shit," Sam whispered. "What the hell happened to him?"

"Walker behind." Daryl tensed.

"He'll see it." Sam assured him.

Merle looked around just then, clearly looking for threats, and saw the dead walking men approaching him. With a visible sigh of annoyance, Merle grabbed an axe that had been attached to his belt, on the right side of his hip, and slammed it into its skull in one continuous, practiced motion. New blood flew around, joining the almost dried out droplets that covered his shirt and vest, and the corpse fell down.

"Damn." Sam flinched at the violence of the blow and added "Cool."

Daryl disappeared from her side and ran out of the house, crossbow raised at yet another walker that had been approaching from the street, and took it down with an arrow through one eye.

"The fuck you been?" he shouted angrily approaching his brother.

"Hey, hey, hey, chill out little brother!" Merle smiled. "Went to Owen's place and got my stuff back." he said as he turned to fumble within the bag attached to the motorcycle. He took his hand out of it bringing out a plastic bag. Inside, quite a good amount of a blue rocky substance.

"Ya went for the blue sky?" Daryl shouted again. "Ya fuckin' disappeared for this shit?"

"That's the best meth ever cooked around, bro. Ain't gonna face the fuckin' apocalypse clear headed. Withdrawal'd be a bitch on the road."

With his huge bag dancing around on his back, Merle walked quickly inside as Daryl shot another arrow into a walker's forehead before running to follow him.

"We almost left you here." Daryl barked as he entered and banged the door closed behind him. Sam was still by the window, arms crossed, now looking at the two brothers while Merle dropped the bag on the couch. She didn't voice it, but she was thinking how all the noise would attract even more dead bodies to the surroundings of the house.

"Well, ya didn't, did ya?" Merle kept smiling and looked at Sam. "Hey, ya still here! Corpse didn't get ya yet?"

"Bite me." she said moving across the living room and into the kitchen.

"Hey, you know wha'?" he asked following her with his eyes and laughed as he zipped the bag open. "One day I might!"

"What you got there?" Daryl asked, his voice still angry, but eyeing the big bag as he approached the couch it had been dropped on.

"Been to Wildcat!" Merle announced happily as he took a smaller bag from inside the big one and then threw it at Daryl. He caught it in the air with his left hand. "Store was open, all fucked up, but I found those."

Daryl dropped the crossbow to the ground, resting against the coffee table, and opened the pack to find it filled with at least fifty new arrows a few new strings for the crossbow. Daryl looked dumbfounded at Merle, who was not paying attention to him anymore. Instead, he fumbled over the things inside.

"Look at that, fuckin' Christmas at the Dixon's!"

The turned the bag upside down and tens of objects fell from it, filling the couch and falling to the floor with thuds. Finishing a glass of water and leaving it on the sink, Sam returned and joined Merle by the couch, looking down at the things.

"Where'd ya get it all?" she asked leaning down to pick up a small, compact set of camping pans.

"Ya know that expensive, full of shit store on E Broughton?"

"Sure." Sam dropped the pans and reached for a flashlight.

"Got all kindsa stuff for the road. Got tents, sleeping bags, a little propane stove an' all."

Daryl continued in a real bad mood for a long time, but didn't say anything else other than grunting agreements. Sam secretly admired Merle for having thought about all of that, since she hadn't. In reality, Sam hadn't imagined that going to stores to pick up things was an actual option, and chastised herself for not considering loot.

"'S getting late, we should go." Sam stated quietly as she started sorting things to put back into Merle's bag.

"Yeah, all we gotta do now is stuff all them heavy bags on the bike, three of us hop on it, and we'll be on our merry way." Merle joked aloud, but Sam could hear some seriousness on his voice. He was at the window, looking out and pointing at the bike as he spoke.

"Fuck!" Daryl said and joined him. "How'd we not think of that?"

"Didn't you use to have a truck?" Sam asked them.

"Yeah, it's at the garage now with a fucked up carburetor." Daryl told her, not turning from the window. "Don't think them mechanics' workin' on it now."

Her heart sank. If there was only the bike, and it belonged to Merle, she realized with a weird, foreign pang in her chest that it was obvious he and Daryl would be going away on it. There was no space for her. For a moment she felt an incredible sadness take over, an even permitted herself to wonder for a moment what the hell she was going to do without those two in her life. The thought scared her more than the dream she'd been awaken from no more than one hour ago. Barely two weeks before these men were her neighbors, people who she never talked to in the eighteen ears she had lived by them, and who were a terror for her. Merle with his hurting comments, Daryl with his indifference, their friends with their raw violence. She had always avoided them like the devil, and now she felt something close to emptiness at the thought they'd be leaving her behind; at the thought that she, in fact, did not belong there.

As the two brothers discussed something by the window, she refused to even try o listen to it. Quietly she moved to where her bags stood against a wall and started picking them up, readying herself to depart alone, trying hard to ignore the tightness on her throat.

"The fuck ya doin'?"

She turned to see Merle and Daryl looking at her, Merle having asked that, frowning. She just looked at them for a second before returning to her task. "I'm going." she told them simply, shrugging.

"No ya not," Daryl snorted.

"Course I am!" Sam forced walls of anger to rise and cover her sadness and disappointment. "Is just obvious, right? Three people, one bike, just do the math."

"How ya plannin' to take the road?" Merle crossed his arms, defying her. "Nice ass 'n green eyes ain't gonna help ya now, sugar."

"Not your problem anymore." she mumbled quietly picking up the second bag. "Thanks for having me; I'll take care of myself now."

She heard Daryl breath out loudly, clearly annoyed, and move from the window. She didn't look at him anymore, just adjusted the two bags on her the best she could, brow furred at the thought of how she'd be able to walk or do anything else while carrying all that weight.

"Ya jus' talking shit now, Sammy," Merle grinned.

"Don't call me that." Sam growled and turned to face the man and stopped him as he opened his smirking mouth to say more. "Look, I don't even know how I ended up here in your house in the first place. Again, thanks for having me here, but –"

"Fuckin' hell, girly, just shut the fuck up!" Merle raised his voice.

"The fuck did ya say to me?" she took angry steps towards him, looking up. He was even taller than Daryl.

"We'll find a fuckin' way, Sammy-Sammy!" he grinned even more, finding great fun in her anger.

"I told ya to not – "

"Would ya girls just shut up?" Daryl shouted from the door and Sam and Merle looked at him. "Jus' stay here, I'll be back."

With that, he opened the door, crossbow in hand, and left the house, banging the door closed at his back. Sam and Merle exchanged a look and she walked away from him. She'd never been alone with Merle before, even being in his house or all those days.

"Where ya goin', chickabiddy?" Merle cooed falling to the couch as she walked along the hallway.

"Away from you." she spat and entered the bathroom, only to leave barely a second after, "Holly fuckin' shit!"

Merle was up in an instant and running to the hallway, stopping dead when she walked towards him and back into the living room. He didn't say anything, but could see she had scared him. Maybe he thought a walker had entered the house.

"You brother buried and elf in there, and we got no water to flush," she complained, passing by and shoulder bumping him.

"Shit, I got a barbarian in the gate myself." he joked going to the bathroom anyway.

"Charming!" she told him aloud and heard him laugh before closing the bathroom door behind him.

"I can see four from here."

"We can take four," Merle said more quietly than Sam had ever heard him speak. She moved from the window holding up the axe Merle had brought with him from his scavenging trip. He looked at it and grinned at her. "Like the axe huh, muffin?"

"Yeah, pretty bad-ass. Let's see how I handle it."

She opened the door and peaked outside before stepping out, Merle close behind her. They were both geared with two guns each, plus knives, the axe and a crowbar. They had been waiting for over two hours, the sun was already higher in the sky than what Sam had wished it to be by the time they left the house, and Daryl was still not back. She had told Merle they should go look for him because they were wasting time, but she was actually terrified that something had happened to him, alone out there. Merle had pretended to agree with her, but he also dreaded the thought that his brother could be one of the corpses around now.

The four walkers saw them coming and charged at them. Sam tested the axe in one of their skulls; it crashed into it easily, even though the axe was heavy, and she had to step on his forehead to force the axe out, but she thought it was pretty neat. She could get used to that. She did the same, now sideways, to the second one, and felt an odd satisfaction as it crumpled to the ground. She looked over at Merle as she took the axe off, and he was just knocking the last one of them to the ground with the crowbar. He grinned at her seeing her work at her share of two corpses.

"Let's go." she didn't smile back.

They moved with quick steps to the middle of the street and looked around. Two more walkers were on the end of the street to their left, but far enough not to be a problem now, and one more on the corner, a few yards away. They started moving to their right, towards the corner with the main street, but a sound of a motor made them stop. They both reached for the guns and pointed it in the direction of the corner, waiting to see what it was. A moment later an old, noisy blue truck turned the corner and kept moving towards them. The sun reflected on the windshield, protecting the driver from being seen, forcing Sam and Merle to maintain their guns pointed and ready. When the truck got closer, the reflection gave way to show it was Daryl driving. Sam breathed out lowering the gun and he approached with the truck, slowing down as he passed by them.

"Let's load it and get the fuck outta here." he told his brother and neighbor, his head out of the window, ignoring the fact they had been pointing guns at him until seconds ago. He kept on to the house, where he parked with the back of it close to the bike. Sam ran to the house as she holstered the gun again after dropping the axe to the yellowing grass. She started taking all the bags, putting them down on the side of the truck.

"Where did ya get it?" she asked Daryl as Merle fumbled with the bike and he was taking the arrows from the heads of the walkers he had shot hours ago.

"Mr. Walker's garage. Was locked, had to break in and kill his brother inside. Half his face was missin'."

As Sam reentered the house and returned with the last of the bags, she saw the two brothers lift the front of the bike to the back of the truck, struggling with its weight.

"Walkers." she said seeing two more approach and once again took the axe from the ground.

"That what ya callin' 'em now?" Merle asked as he hopped up to the back of the truck.

"You got 'em?" Daryl asked ignoring the question.

"I got 'em, keep up." she answered rushing over to the walkers, not waiting for them to get to her. She finished one quickly with the axe, but as she forced it out of its skull, the other one approached from her left. She let go of the axe but had no time to reach for other weapon, taking on her only choice. She make a quick turnaround herself, left leg raising up strongly with her motion to hit he walker straight in the face. It crumpled heavily to the floor but didn't stop moving. Sam turned quickly to the axe, stepped on the walker's head and yanked it out, moving it down to the other in one fluid motion. She was breathing heavily as she looked down at the two corpses and then back at the Dixon's, who had stopped moving the bike up and were staring openly at her.

"Shit, didn't know ya can do that!" Merle laughed.

She didn't respond. Instead of giving them attention, she ran quickly towards Daryl. His eyes widened as he saw the girl covered in blood with the axe raised running towards him, features hardened.

"Duck!" she shouted and he didn't even think before doing so. He crouched down in time to see her jump and fly above him, one leg stretched out to knock a walker down, hitting it in the chest. She had barely landed to the ground when she shoved the axe into its skull.

She looked back at Daryl, chest rising and falling strongly. "They're fuckin' loud, how didn't ya hear it?" she barked at him, angry.

He didn't answer, stunned, and she walked away and started looking around. Merle and Daryl restarted lifting the bike and Sam took guard. When it was up, Merle took care of chaining it to the bed of the truck and Daryl lifted the bags into it, fitting them on the little space there was around the bike.

"Fuck! We're too loud, they're comin'!" Sam warned them.

Merle repeated her choice of cursing as he jumped out of the truck, crowbar again in hand. He and Daryl moved close to Sam, weapons ready. Walkers started appearing from the street, the back of the house, the neighbor's lawns, even from inside Sam's house, and in instants were surrounding the three of them. The fought the closer ones, but the noise seemed to be attracting even more.

"We gotta move!", Merle shouted.

They started moving closer to the car, back to back forming a misshaped circle, Daryl and Sam killing the corpses that were standing in between and Merle stopping others to approach. Daryl opened the truck passenger door, its movement sending a walker stumbling backwards.

"Get in!" he turned to Sam, grabbing her arm strongly and all but shoving her inside. "Merle, come on!" he shouted at his brother, who was laughing hysterically and taking one of his guns out of the holster. Merle shot one walker straight in the middle of its forehead and aimed to the next one, and then the next.

"Stop fuckin' around!" Sam shouted from the inside as she turned the key to start the truck. A walker was banging its fists on the window by her side, some sort of goo plastering the glass. "Let's go!"

Merle turned and Daryl climbed into de truck just before him. Merle slammed the door shut just as Sam started moving away from the garage entrance.

"Shit, ya fuckin' insane!" Daryl said, chest having. He had seen walkers way too close to his brother.

"Wasting bullets!" was all Sam could say, her voice shriek denouncing how nervous she was.

"We own them!" Merle shouted, laughing as opened the window by his side. "We fuckin' own 'em!" he put his head and arm outside as Sam drove away. "Adios, motherfuckers! Hasta la vista, fuckin' 7th street! Hope I never see ya again!"

Sam felt, for a brief moment, like telling him that "hasta la vista" actually meant "see you later", but she refrained. Instead, she surprised herself by laughing with him, a full, loud guffaw, his words warming something inside her. Merle looked at her, still laughing, leaving Daryl in the middle of them looking dumbfounded from side to side. The two laughed even more, looking at each other, and Sam felt an amazing, odd satisfaction as she filled her lungs with air that did not smell good at all, but felt tastier than ever, and, looking to the street that stretched before them again, shouted "Fuck you, Garden City!"

A short 32 miles trip should have taken them no more than forty minutes to cover, but the abandoned cars on traffic at the entrances of towns on US 80 made their progress much slower. Sam had to drive out of the road for more than five miles, and when they reached the town of Eden they had to enter the village and drive by a herd of about twenty walkers, slowly, to only then return to the road. It was about lunch time when they decided to stop. There was a gas station on the entrance of Stilson that was apparently safe, with no walkers at sight.

"Less than a quarter of tank." Sam sighed as she parked.

The place was abandoned. There were cars around, a big sign informing there was no gas, and no people around, living or dead. They hopped out of the car and spread out to look for supplies. Merle and Daryl took the time to look for fuel in the tanks of abandoned cars while Sam went through them to see if she could find something useful. She did find a few pills inside glove compartments, abandoned cans of soda, a bag of Doritos. In the trunk of one of the cars, a travelling bag with clothes, shoes and toiletries.

After carrying a new bag filled with the findings to the truck, Sam checked that Daryl and Merle were still in their search for gas, so she stood on the edge of the road, facing a big empty field, and lit up a cigarette. It was all still surreal for her. Being here, in the middle of the road, which was completely deserted, getting gas for the truck with the Dixons while the world had gone to shit.

"Hey" Daryl was approaching. He didn't ask, but Sam handed him the pack of Morleys. "Got somethin' good?"

"Yeah, whole new bag of stuff."

Daryl lit his cigarette and pulled, now standing beside her and also looking at the field and road. He was silent for a moment until he questioned "What d'ya think we gonna find in Atlanta?"

"Honest?"

"Yeah."

"Nothin'."

"What?" he turned to her, surprised.

"Been almost two weeks since day one. We heard 'bout the shelter on the radio almost a week ago. The whole population of fuckin' Georgia heard it. No room for so many."

"So why we goin' there?"

"'Cause I ain't sure, I just guess. Gotta try, don't we?"

She looked at him, who stared back and didn't answer, worry creasing his forehead. Finally he pulled on his cigarette again and looked away from her, head moving slowly up and down in a nod.

"Yeah, got nothin' else to do anyway. But hey, don't say that to Merle. He'll get pissed and leave again."

"'Course. Just don't know what to do it turns out I'm right."

"We'll figure." he said and they went silent again for a minute. "Think we should check in there," Daryl said pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, "may find some food."

"Sure." she agreed and looked towards the diner, only to see a walker stumbling towards the two of them. "Oh, fuck, can't ya jus' gimme a break?"

Daryl looked to the same direction and snorted a quick laugh before turning again to Sam. "Here, hold this." He handed her his half cigarette. "Don't smoke it." he told her pointing a finger after she took it. Daryl swung the crossbow from his back, held it up and shot the corpse without much of a thought. Sam gave him the cig back when he turned to her again, a small smirk on his lips, and they finished smoking in silence.

As they turned towards the diner, butts of their smokes thrown on the road, they saw Merle coming back from the parking lot behind it.

"Hey! Whatcha pussies doing standing there? Got nothin' else to do? I ain't gonna do all the work alone!"

"We got the gas already." Daryl said when they met halfway. "Jus' gotta fill the tank."

"Ya coming on to her already little brother?", Merle asked aloud and Sam rolled her eyes, walking further from them towards the diner. "Think ya gonna get ya nice piece of ass now?"

"Shut up, Merle!" Sam heard Daryl shout and turned to them.

"Hey, cut it out!" she ordered. "We got things to do."

"Yeah, _you_ got things to do." Merle turned away from Daryl, moving to Sam. "Ya not gonna get off the hard work 'cause ya girl. Little brother and I got all the gas for the tank, what the fuck did ya do? Stood there smokin' like a smokin' princess?"

"I got us fuckin' supplies, not that I owe ya any explanation. And back the fuck off!", she yelled, a hand extended between them as he got too close for her comfort.

He laughed looking down at her, "Nervous, love? Don't want no men close to ya personal space? Or ya jus' don't like no man at all?"

"She said back off," Daryl said approaching and then forcefully shoved Merle away from her, "get the fuck away!"

"The fuck is wrong with you, brother?" Merle asked him, both now staring at each other. "The girl can look after herself, ain't that what she always sayin'?"

"I don't give it a fuck what she can do. You stay away from her!"

Sam had already walked away from them. It was enough that the world was ending and she had no home or any knowledge of what was going on, she didn't want to have to deal with the Dixons fights. They were big boys; let them solve their own problems. One thing Sam had learned in those two weeks was that, when from the outside she had believed they were close, friends, and liked the same things, now from up close she was sure they had problems, deeper than she could imagine. It was a love-hate relationship that was only theirs. She didn't want any part in this, though she did feel like at least understanding what it was between them. She walked to the diner door, peeking inside, still listening to their raised voices but not making out what they were saying.

"Ya tellin' me to stay away from her?" Merle asked, right at Daryl's face. "And why's that? The fuck do ya think you are do tell me that?"

"I'm lookin' after her. Ya done enough to her already."

"I ain't never done shit to her! I kept an eye on her! I was ready to beat the fuck outta D if she ain't done it herself."

"No, Merle, I was the one to do it! You jus't dragged our lazy ass along. You always bein' an asshole to her, time to cut it out!"

"You want her, don't ya, little brother?"

"Ain't got nothin' to do with that."

"For how long? Since ya'll were kids? Or just now? If ya don't want me near her, ya can't get it neither. We're the same, you and me, brother. We ain't got nothin' for a girl like that one. If I gotta stay away, so do you."

"I ain't the one who keep talkin' shit to her. She stuck with us, so ya'd better cut it out."

"Yeah, I might." He lowered his voice and nodded slowly, looking down at Daryl. "I might." he repeated with one more sharp nod. "But ya listen to me, brother. I ain't gonna touch her. But you ain't gonna neither. I'll keep an eye on ya."

Daryl and Merle had approached Sam by the main door of the diner just as she pushed it slowly open and peeked inside as silently as possible. They didn't say anything, just raised their weapons just like she had and entered quietly. It was a small place so it didn't take long to check it was completely empty.

"Been looted already." Merle spoke looking around at the useless things thrown on the floor.

"We should see it there's toilet paper in the restrooms." Sam told either one of them as she crouched down to pick up an abandoned purse she found on the floor. Opening it, she found a wallet with money in it, but left it there; there was no use for money now. On the driver's license, she saw the name of its owner. "Well, dear Abby, if you excuse me, I'm gonna go through your stuff."

She found a plastic bag with three Mars bars, a half-eaten tic-tac pack, a pen, an uncharged cell phone, a very ugly pink lipstick and, inside another pocket of the purse, a bag of pads. She stared at them for a moment, making a mental note to think about what it reminded her later, and took the pack along with the mars bars. Merle came out of the restroom carrying a big roll of toilet paper and a pack of baby wipes and met Daryl by the cashier, from where he was leaving with a package containing about twenty lighters. Seeing there was nothing else that could be useful in there, they decided it was time to fill the tank and hit the road. Sam was already at the driver's seat when they got to the car, throwing things on the truck.

"Who made ya the official driver in this trip?" Merle said as he sat by her side and Daryl climbed in after him.

"I did." she told him half mindedly while fumbling with the radio dial. "Would ya try it again?"

"Is no use, but whatever."

They had been on the road again for less than five minutes when the radio finally tuned into something understandable. They went very silent as Merle found the best position, and then just listened.

"Reports from the state of New York, New Hempshire and Maine recently informed their main cities to have gone down. Manhattan had to be bombed in a try to contain the spread of the parasite but-" the transmission got lost for a moment and then returned.

"We recently lost contact with California. Oregon had been also lost on our last communication – "

"May God help us all –"

"It's a national crisis, the White House hasn't made any kind of announcement in almost a week –"

"We are not even sure if this all is really only happening in America. We heard reports about Mexico, but not too complete inf –"

"We heard hours ago that Denver was bombed, just like they did Manhattan, and other main cities in Colo –"

"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive our sins –"

Daryl leaned over and turned off the radio. For a long time, what could have been the best part of an hour, the only sound they heard was the heavy motor of the truck.

"Down from coast to coast." Merle broke the silence in a low, grave voice. "Why'd it be different in Atlanta?"

"You got any other idea?" Sam asked in the same low voice.

He thought for a long moment. Sam looked at him and then at Daryl, who was looking out at the road, biting the inside of his lower lip.

"The coast, maybe?" Sam spoke again. "There might be food…"

"Yeah. Maybe." Daryl agreed after a moment. "We can do that."

"Yeah." Sam whispered as Merle only nodded. "Yeah, I guess. But, just… We gotta get to Atlanta first. Take a look. At least we'll be sure if it went down." she had no answer, they both only nodded.

"Okay." She said mostly to herself.

"There's Statesboro." Daryl said as they approached the city.

"Shit, look at that place…" Merle said leaning forward. "All gone too."

"Hard to believe there's no one here. Or anywhere. I mean, where's everybody?"

"If they had somethin' to escape," Daryl started, bitterly, "then we shouldn't be here neither."

"What if there's people hiding? People needing help, and there's no one to help them? I don't see any authority, I mean, fire department, police, ambulance…"

"Don't think there is any of that no more", Daryl stated. "Probably escaped as well."

"What if – " Sam started but paused. "Fuck, look at that." she pointed at a dead body on the road, a vulture sitting on its chest, feasting on the flesh of its stomach.

"What if what?" Merle asked, ignoring it.

"What if we find people who need help? What do we do?"

"Depends on the kinda help." Daryl said. "Only so much we could do."

"We ain't helping no one." Merle had his voice normal again. "Got no space in the truck and I ain't sharing our things. Ya expect people around to help ya if ya need it? Bullshit. People will only look to their own asses."

"Shit, of course nobody would help ya, Merle." Sam said, making Merle and Daryl look at her. "You're a fuckin' asshole." she finished and heard Daryl snort a laugh. She looked at him for a moment and returned to Merle. "Why would anyone help you?"

"Well, you would help me, love!" Merle smiled.

"Yeah, maybe I'm an asshole too."

In downtown Statesboro, Sam made a turn to the left taking South Main St while telling them "We'll take S Main straight down to 301 and from there take 16 straight to Atlanta."

"Ya know this place?" Daryl asked looking at her past his brother.

"Yeah. Stayed here more often than back home for a while. A freakin' square close to Wall Mart."

Merle snorted a loud laugh, "Sounds like a junkie spot to me."

Sam didn't look at the two men by her side, she went silent and so did they. She could feel they were both staring at her, maybe waiting for her to correct Merle, but she didn't. Instead, she just mumbled "Yeah…" and remained quiet for a very long time.

They decided not to stop in Macon as well, instead just passed by it. The difference, this time, was that they saw people. There was a group looting a supermarket, two men breaking the window of a car to steal it, a man nailing wooden planks to the window of a store, but more than anything else, they saw cars moving towards the road. Not just a few. A woman shot a walker in the head right in the middle of the street before running away. Their windows were closed and door locked as Sam drove faster. If it didn't feel safe, it probably wasn't.

The sun had already started to go down and give way to the night when they left the freeway, driving on the side road instead, slowly enough to look for a place to stay that night. They drove by a large grassy lawn close to Forsyth and could see a few small wooden camping cabins among sparse trees. It was the entrance of a park and seemed to be void of any life. They drove by and returned a couple of times, hoping the noise of the truck would attract any walkers around so they'd know what they would have to deal with. As none appeared, Sam drove the truck over the grass, very slowly, until it came to a stop between the two first little cabins. Nobody said a word for a while as they looked around and, silently, climbed down the car.

The cabins were disposed in two rows that faced each other and were, now they could see, five on each row, tiny, barely existent porches in front of them. Everything was silent as the three exchanged looks. Daryl gestured Merle to go check on the back of the left row of cabins and Sam to check the middle space between them. They nodded and moved to their specific spots as Daryl went to the back of the row on their right.

Reaching the space between the second and third cabins, Sam saw a walker between the one on the right, close to where Daryl had also just seen it. The walker seemed dormant, but looked big and strong, probably recently turned, she gathered. Across from it, Sam and Daryl exchanged a look just as the walker turned its head to Daryl, who was much closer to him, and growled. Sam immediately brought her fingers to her lips and let out a sharp, loud whistle. Without pausing, the walker turned to her, his dead, yellowed eyes focusing on her form. He turned and gave his back to Daryl, who took no time thinking before rushing over to it. He grabbed his hair and pulled the head back, his knife being stabbed into the eye socket to the hilt. He pulled the knife out before letting the body fall to the ground. After eyeing it for another moment, he looked up to see Sam still there. He nodded at her, head down but eyes on hers, and they both moved along.

When the three met in the end of the rows of cabins, they saw the neck of woods descended slightly into the park and, a few yards away, a group of four walkers feasting on a dead dear. Merle raised the rifle he had been carrying and took aim, silently. By his side, Sam reached out to touch on the barrel close to his hand, and tugged it down. Merle looked at her, a mixture of a question and irritation in his eyes. She answered by bringing a finger to over her lips, asking for silence. An irk frown in his forehead, he lowered the rifle in time to see the first arrow silently fly out of his brother's crossbow, hitting the first of the four walkers square in the back of the head. The other three didn't seem no notice anything was wrong, giving time for Daryl to reload his weapon and shoot again. When the second walker fell to the ground, the other two noticed their presence. One of the kept eating, to engross on the fresh meat in front of him to desire a new hunt. The other, a female wearing torn pant suits, got up and made its way up the ground of the forest towards them.

"Got it." Merle said as he extended the rifle to Sam, who took it without question. He unsheathed one of his knives and stepped towards it as Daryl took aim at the last one. Both walkers were gone at the same moment.

"Think it's clear," Sam told them as Daryl went to retrieve back his arrows and Merle cleaned the knife on the fabric of the walker's clothes. "Gotta check inside the cabins now. I'm thinking we use two of 'em, two of us sleep and one take guard." She turned to lead them back when they were ready to go. "This place seems too good, someone else's definitely gonna wanna be here."

The inside of the cabins were clear. They checked all of them through the windows, since all the doors were tightly locked, and chose the two first ones to sleep in. They successfully broke in to find the space was even smaller than they'd thought; single bed, a small dresser, and nothing else. It was simply perfect for their first night on the road.


	5. Day 13

_Day 13_

The knock had been so faint, so quick that Sam wasn't sure if it had actually happened, or if she had simply imagined it. Frowning, she peered out from under a single eye at the darkness that threatened to engulf her entirely, the complete and utter silence only broken by the singing of hidden crickets. Sure of what she heard, she remained unmoving, her mind on overdrive as she fought to place herself, to remember what had happened. Daring a settling breath, her head snapped to the knock as it repeated itself, the sound now followed by a haunting creak as the door fell ever so slowly. Holding the breath she had taken, Sam lifted her head from the thin, molded pillow, her hand tightening around the handle of the hunting knife that had never left her side. Letting her eyes adjusted to the weak, bluish light that filtered through the gap in the door courteously of the moon, she placed the head that peaked inside as Daryl, his figure cautious, ready.

"Daryl?" She whispered into the darkness of the surrounding room, hand loosening from its tight grip as she allowed herself to breath once again, unsure if he could see that she had woken.

"Hey," he all but breathed moments later, keeping his almost shielded position.

"Is it my turn to watch already?" She frowned, seeking evidence from the illuminated numbers of an alarm clock that wasn't there, purely out of habit.

"Yeah, almost," his silhouette nodded, an apology playing at his tone as he pushed the door open further.

Sighing, Sam slid the worn blanket to the side of her aching body to sit up and rub her eyes before searching blindly for her boots. "Everything alright out there?"

"Yeah, jus' few cars passing on the road, none stopped." his voice was still quiet

"'Kay, come in, you need to sleep. "

"I'm alright."

Sam looked up at him as she tied the shoelaces. "What ya mean? You gotta rest."

"I'll nap in the truck later."

"So why'd you wake me up? Where's Merle?"

"Asleep. Uh, sorry, shouda let you sleep..." he reached for the door to close it again, but Sam got up from the bed quickly and held it open.

"Now I'm up anyway. Did you wanna say something?"

"Just... Knew ya'd be all bitchin' if I didn't wake ya when ya told me to." he said, voice returning to normal as he turned around and walked away.

"Yeah, you right I'd be bitching, but that's 'cause ya need to sleep. Why else would I wanna be up in the middle of the night?" she followed him, securing her knife in the sheath around her waistband.

She followed him, who didn't answer, until he reached the picnic tables in the middle of the grassy area in the entrance of the park.

"Found pears." he broke the short silence and pointed to the table. Looking down, Sam saw about a dozen of pears lying there any her annoyance quickly dissipated. Her mouth watered and she reached for one of them without even thinking.

"Did ya eat?" she asked him right before biting down on the fruit.

"Yeah." Daryl mumbled in response, unable to tear his eyes from her as she chewed, closed her eyes and moaned throatily. As she swallowed, she opened her eyes to look at him, a smile playing on her lips. He quickly looked away and down at his shoes.

"This is amazing, thank you," and she bit again. "That why ya woke me up?"

"Nah," he said with a dismissive wave of hand. "Told ya why."

"Right, so I wouldn't be bitching later." she was still smiling and Daryl didn't look at her for long. "So ya just shove me food so I'll be in a good mood." she paused and he looked at her, uncertain of how her mood really was. It hadn't been good for a long time, probably since this all started. He saw her smirking at him, though as she completed "Good one."

He cleared his throat and turned away from her, looking around as he kept his watching duty. "Ya go back to sleep, couple more hours until dawn."

Sam didn't answer. She hopped up on the table and sat besides the pears, feet resting on the bench, and kept eating. Daryl turned around to see her, but didn't say anything. For the rest if the night they kept watch together and silently. Daryl only moved far from her to go relieve himself behind one of the empty cabins, and returned quickly. Sam ate two pears and forced herself not to devour all of them; they had to ration food.

When the morning came, Sam excused herself to go have her own relief and found Merle awake upon return. He was mumbling about how small for his size and how hard the bed had been, about how hungry he was. Sam told him to eat pears but he laughed saying that fruit for breakfast was for pussies. He retrieved the can bag from the truck and chose a few, ignoring Sam expression when she saw his choice.

"Not eating this shit, I'll stick to the pears." she told him as she sat on the table once again.

"Fuckin' fruit ain't gonna take ya far, Sammy." Merle told her and placed a can roughly by her side. She rolled her eyes at the name. "We all gotta eat protein, know what I mean?"

"Yeah, protein is one thing but,", she took the can "this? Really?"

Daryl joined his brother on insisting for her to eat, and she finally gave in. Daryl had opened the cans with his hunting knife and, defeated, she dig on one.

"I gotta tell ya, never thought I'd eat cold pork brains for breakfast," she said after minutes, eating the disgusting tasting thing, "out of a can."

"Not only pork brains." Daryl said with his mouthful, sitting by her side at the edge os the picnic table. "Pork brains with milk gravy."

"Geez, I don't think imma need to eat again in days."

A characteristic groan interrupted the silence that stretched as the three ate, sitting side by side on top of the table. They looked up to see a walker appear from around a cabin, attracted by their noise. Merle got up leaving his can on the table, grabbed a machete he had found behind the cabins the evening before and smashed it into the walker's head. It got split in two almost perfect halves, brain matter squishing all over.

Sam had been chewing on pork brains for a moment. The connection between both things did not go unnoticed by her stomach. "Oh shit." She groaned getting up and running to the side of the cabin. Her breakfast was gone in a moment and Daryl was by her side, but not too close.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked worried.

"Peachy!", she snapped. "Pork brains, walker brains… Ya know".

"Here," he approached her carefully as she swiped her mouth with the back of her hand and handed her a bottle of water. He stayed close as she washed her mouth and then sipped on the water. They returned to the table where Merle was already sitting again, eating his brains eagerly.

"Hey, if ya gonna be a pussy about gore –"

"Shut up, Merle." Sam barked as she sat down. "Can we please not talk about that?"

"Sure." Daryl agreed sitting by her side and taking a spoon to eat again. "Hey, Sam, wanna eat again?"

As she looked at him to answer that there was absolutely no way she would ever eat that crap again in her life, Daryl opened his mouth, filled with chewed pork brains, and made a walker noise. Merle guffawed aloud and Sam yelled at Daryl, pushing him away from her strongly. He fell on his feet from the table, swallowing and laughing.

"Fuck, get away from me, you're disgusting." she said getting up, but all the while holding her own laughter. Her stomach did complain quite a lot about the sight, though. She moved to the other picnic table and sat on top of it, drinking her water, willing her nausea to go away. In a few minutes the Dixons finished eating, checked on the cabins again and put their things back the bed of the truck before approaching her again.

"Ready to go?" Daryl asked her.

"Yeah, I guess. Shouldn't have eaten that. I didn't even eat breakfast often back in real life."

"This is real life, love." Merle told her. "Gotta get used to eat whatever ya can find. No markets no more."

"We don't even know how long this whatever-this-is gonna last. Maybe things will get back to normal… Someday."

"Yeah, and ya really believe that?" Daryl asked.

"No, I don't." she answered with a little smile.

"Hey, talkin' 'bout real life, d'ya want me to teach ya how to shoot?" Merle asked and sat by her once again. "Can get handy these days."

"I don't need to learn it."

"Nah, I think ya do." Merle disagreed. "Knife and axe will only save you ass to some point. Gonna get to shoot 'em motherfuckers eventually."

"Too noisy." she pointed out and took a sip of water. "Ya kill one with a shot and attract ten more."

"Can't think like that in an emergency." Daryl said standing in front of her, raising one leg to rest on the bench under them. "If ya need to save your life, or someone's who's with ya, gonna have to shoot."

"Hm… Yeah, you right." she said after thinking for a moment. "But I still tell ya, I don't need to learn it."

"Shit, gotta be so stubborn, love?"

"I said" she spoke louder to cut him off "I don't need to learn it. I already know how to shoot."

Merle, with an impressed expression and a smirk, nodded and looked at Daryl.

"Alright." Daryl said. "What about that kicking jumping thing you did back at the house?"

"Yeah, I can do that too. I learned self-defense years ago, included shooting in that. I practice sports on the weekends."

"So ya an athlete?" Merle asked, almost laughing.

"So much you two don't know about me." She shook her head.

"Yeah, but we talkin' 'bout things useful on the fuckin' apocalypse. I don't think playing volleyball or somethin' will help a lot." Merle mocked.

"Who said anything 'bout volleyball? I do free running, and that, dude, is something useful in the fuckin' apocalypse."

She had to explain to them what this sport was and what she could do, but refused to show anything to them. They had to hit the road again, and she was still feeling ill. As they entered the truck again, Merle driving this time and Sam by the opposite window, Daryl deviated the topic.

"You guys aware that it's not jus' walkers we'll be up against, huh?"

"What you mean?", Sam turned her head from the window to look at him.

"It's people. No law, no health and food no more. People gonna turn against the other."

"Ya right, brother." Merle nodded as they entered the main road again. "Men can be evil in normal life, guess how'll be now. We're up for some real shit."

"Fuck." Sam said really low, looking out the window, the wind making her feel a little better. "Hadn't thought of it."

"Yep. With time I'm not sure if we gotta worry more about walkers or breathers."

Fifteen minutes later found them parked on the side of the road again, right under the High Falls Road sign. Sam had jumped over the guardrail and was wrenching by the tree line. The number of cars passing by the road was much bigger now, all with visibly enormous luggage. Merle stood up on the bed of the truck, a gun in hand, guarding it, seeing people stare at the car as they passed, but nobody dared to stop. Daryl was standing in the grass close to Sam, his crossbow in hand. When she fell on her knees after wrenching violently for minutes, he called on Merle.

"We stopping for today." Daryl announced. "We'll take this road here and go to the park, find a place."

"No!" Sam forced herself up. "We're close to Atlanta now and 's too early, we gotta go-"

"None of that, ya sick and got no opinion now", Daryl cut her. "Ya know this place, Merle?"

"Yeah. Good hunting spot, bunch o' fancy ass houses around. We can get'er some real food."

"We can't stop a whole day!" Sam protested.

"Jus' shut up, love", Merle called from the top of the car, turning to look at her, "Damn, girl, yer green! Hey, don't feel bad 'bout it," he said seeing her angry at the situation. "Girls just ain't prepared for that kinda thang but don' worry, we'll find ya a suited job."

Sam was already approaching the car by the passenger door. "What's this got to with me bein' a girl? Guys can get food poisoning too, you might too."

"Nah, not me", Merle jumped from the roof to the floor, his heavy body almost stumbling to the ground but gaining his balance. "I'm a tough sumbitch, never get sick."

"Can only imagine you sick", Sam entered the cab and sat down as Daryl climbed in next to her. "Ya'd be bitchin' around like you dying from a fuckin' cold."

"Ya'll never see it happen, love."

After her last round of wrenching, Sam felt fine enough to help Daryl and Merle enter a few houses by the park and lake to scavenge for supplies. Hey found more cans and even three packages of dehydrated food in a house, pickles and canned fruit in other, two bottles of Gatorade on the third, which Sam drank right away.

They were reaching the fourth house when a group of walkers approached them.

"Eight", Merle stated after quickly counting.

"Ya'll right, Sam?" Daryl asked her when the three of them got their backs together in a circle, looking out at the walkers.

"I'll manage."

Without stepping out of that position, the three of them killed the walkers, plus three more that got attracted by the noise, and stood silent for a moment, waiting for more but none came.

"Clear." Merle called after a while and they walked away, stepping over the dead bodies toward the house. Sam's nausea was back, but she managed to breathe and control it. They entered this house, finding one more walker on the hallway, which Daryl killed with a stab in the eye, and moving further into the house, another one.

A small one.

"Fuck." Sam whispered looking at it. It was a girl, couldn't have been more than five years old, so thin and small, dead hungry eyes staring at them as she stumbled forward, little hands reaching out. Sam pushed her away easily and she kept coming.

"You got this?" Daryl asked from behind her.

Sam only nodded, a knot forming on her throat. It was easy to kill the big ones. Damn, too easy already, now they knew the best ways to do it and the fear they felt in the beginning was subsiding. Killing a little one, though… Sam could see she had been sweet, she was still wearing pajamas.

Better put an end to it already.

She held the tiny frame tightly from behind and slid the knife, almost gently, into her temple. The little girl's corpse stopped moving instantly, and instead of letting it fall, Sam grabbed her in her arms and took her outside.

She got sick again.

Returning to the house after relieving herself once again, Sam stopped looking down at one of the bodies. They had failed to see that one of the males had been wearing a shoulder gun holster, a small revolver tucked into it. She struggled a little but was able to take it off him. Sam walked into the house again putting on the holster, trying it on.

"Hey, sugar lips!" she heard Merle call just as she entered the house's living room. He was standing opposite her by a threshold when she looked at him. "Check it out." and with that he reached for the light switch. The living room was washed bright with artificial light.

"You're fuckin' kidding me!" Sam yelled and ran out of the room to the hallway, where she met Daryl – who for some reason had a baseball bat in his hand – and entered the bathroom. He returned to see what it was about and saw her leaning for the shower faucet, testing the running water with her hand. She turned to look at him. "We got hot water! How's that possible?"

"Solar panels on the backyard." Daryl explained.

Sam didn't say anything; she just smiled. A bright, truly relieved smile. Daryl surprised himself by smiling back at her. Not because of the water, or because it was hot, but because she was smiling at him. _At him_ , for the first time ever since they had met so many years ago.

By the time Sam left the shower, dread locks washed and dripping water, smelling like soap, her skin taking a red flush from all he scrubbing she did, wearing clean clothes she had found in one of the closets of the house, she found every window of the house sealed – with furniture or boards, the doors safely shut, and none of the Dixons in sight. She felt much better after showering – she would have stayed under the hot water for one more hour if she could, but she wanted the two unlikely end-of-the-world companions to be able o shower as well. Her stomach had settled, all she felt now was very sleepy and relaxed – just as relaxed as it was possible those days. She looked for them in the house and only found a note, written in a piece of paper towel.

" _Gone hunting. Stay put_ ".

It was hours before they returned. She took a book out of the living room bookshelf but hated it on the first page; rummaged again through all the closets, cabinets and boxes in the house, and made a pile of useful things she found by the door – batteries, a rope, a pair of very small binoculars, two rolls of duct tape, a sewing kit and a map – some clothes that fitted her and a few for the guys. On the kitchen table, she placed everything eatable she found, leaving the rotten ones away in a cabinet. Canned fruit, a pack of beef jerky, two cans of cherry coke, a brand new jar of peanut butter, a gallon of mineral water, salt, pepper, dried herbs for seasoning and some red spice she didn't know, and a big can of vanilla pudding. She stilled when placing this last one with the other, though. Her stomach, now nausea free, rumbled loudly at the sight of it, her mouth watering. Sam opened it with a knife and sat on the couch, legs crossed and the big can rested on them. The day had started to turn into evening, and she didn't turn on any light, even knowing there was energy to do so; she didn't want to attract any attention to the house.

The can was empty before she knew it. It was like waking up from a delightful dream. She looked at the licked out spoon and down at the empty can and only stared for a moment. Her mind started to race, although her face didn't show anything, even if she was alone. Thoughts of how nauseous she had been all day, of how desperately she had eaten all of that, and the math – how many weeks had it been since she was with that guy, what was his name again? Four or five? Her heart went cold and her stomach rumbled again, as if she hadn't just eaten anything, completely ignoring her now almost desperate brain.

"No", she whispered. "No, no, no, no – "

A click on the door got her throwing the can on the couch and jumping to her feet, knife out of the sheath. After a moment, the door opened and Daryl entered, followed by Merle with something thrown over his shoulder. They saw her standing there in the dim light, knife pointed at them, trembling slightly.

"Hey, relax, jus' us." Daryl assured her lowering his crossbow to the ground.

"Fuck!" she cursed lowering her own weapon. "Little heads up woulda been nice."

"Lil' gratitude wouldn't be bad neither." Merle kicked the door shut. "Gone out and back with a nice lil' dear for dinner."

The thought of fresh meat had her mouth watering again. She swallowed hard, mind on _that_ again. "Yeah… Thanks, that's great." she mumbled and moved to the kitchen.

"Nah-ah, wait a minute!" Merle went after her. "What is it princess? Think ya just gonna thank and is all? Ya gotta cook it."

"Did I say I wouldn't?" she snapped. "Fuck, just gimme a break!"

Daryl reached them with the small dear in his hands and plopped it heavily on the sink. Sam figured it wasn't even adult yet – but to hell with preservation laws these days. Daryl took out a knife and moved for it.

"Show me how to clean it." Sam told him standing by his side.

He looked at her, doubtful. "Ya sure?"

"Am asking, aren't I?"

"Nah, ya gonna throw up again."

"I'm fine. Come on, ya guys hunt, I clean."

"Yeah, ya got sick with a brain this morn-"

"I'm not a fuckin' pussy, Daryl, got sick once and ya'll gonna think that's me now? Come on; show me how to clean the fuckin' dear!" she barked, raised voice, and snapped her head to Merle, who was still there and smiling. "And you, swipe that fuckin' annoying smirk outta your face and go take a shower, you fuckin' stink."

Merle laughed aloud and raised his hands, moving out of the kitchen. "PMS, anyone?"

Sam literally groaned as she turned back to the dear.

"I wish."


	6. Day 14

Day 14

"Case you're wondering where all the people are…" Sam mumbled quietly as Merle slowed the truck down, the road stuck with cars, until he stopped at the end of the line, more cars approaching and stopping behind them. People were out talking, looking around as if the answer would be right there on sight. Merle turned the truck off and they just sat there quietly, uncertain decisions to be taken. They were close to Atlanta, but the traffic jam had extended so far that it wasn't close enough to where they could see anything or even walk there. After a while, they decided it would never move again – literally – in spite of what people around them were saying. They believed in the shelter, at least most of them, and they believed nothing too bad was happening.

Daryl opened the door by his side and jumped out, Sam following him unquestioningly. As her feet hit the asphalt, she heard the driver's door open as well and Merle groan as he stirred his muscles upon also getting out of the truck.

"Guys, stay here," Daryl told them. "Gonna check how far it goes." He completed as he turned around, swinging his crossbow across his back and walking away.

Many long minutes later, Sam had been sitting quietly on the side of the truck, booted feet resting on the tire, keeping an eye on people who walked by too close to their things. The big, stylish motorcycle on the back of the truck called quite a lot of attention, especially when surrounded by full bags and a dreadlocked blonde carrying a gun and a big muscled redneck snarling with a rifle in hand.

When Daryl returned, as Merle smoked and observed the area around while standing in front of the truck, he informed his road companions that it was no use to wait; if they stayed there, they'd be going nowhere.

"Let's get the fuck outta here then." Merle said throwing his cigarette on the ground and stomping on it. "Where to? Sam?"

Quietly and not answering him, Sam jumped out from the truck to the road and leaned inside the car to take the map out from the glove box. Still quiet, she rounded the truck to open it on the hood, both Dixons looking down at it over her shoulders. They gave their opinions, pointing down at the road on the map, mostly disagreeing with anything the other said, but Sam wasn't listening. She felt like everything around her was silent, like the strangers' faces around were only more dead people she didn't really care about. Her mind wasn't there.

"No way to enter 675?" she asked Daryl, who had probably seen the entrance of said road on his walk.

"Nope," Daryl answered over her shoulder.

"So we'll turn around," she informed them and looked at the mid section of the road, checking to see if there was space for them to drive over the grassed area. She looked down at the map again and her finger landed on a point on the map. "Take Walt Shepperds 'til Jonesboro, then 54 to Peachtree where we can take 74 all the way to 85. We'll try through there."

"And if it's another dead end?" Daryl asked as Sam folded the map again, a deep frown worrying her brows.

She stopped and sighed as she turned around, folded map in hand and looked from Daryl to Merle and back. "Then we're fucked."

"Guess we're fucked then, that right?" Daryl asked.

"Yep." Sam popped the p in the end. "Deeply fucked."

Night had fallen upon them. The truck stopped on the 85 traffic, cars in front and behind them stopped, motors turned off, and people all around exactly like it had been before. She opened the door and hopped down to the asphalt, looking around. Merle also left the car after her and stood by her side, pulling up his waistband.

"Gonna go take a piss." he informed in a groan and left, just as Daryl approached.

"Should see if anyone knows anything we don't. If maybe got some on the radio."

"Maybe," she said. "At least one of us should stay in the car. Too many people, don't want our things gone."

Instead of an answer, Daryl offered her a cigarette, which she accepted without a second thought. He lit it up for her and she took a long drag, letting the relaxation take her for a moment. She looked at the lit ember glowing orange and felt it hit her. She shouldn't be smoking. If the assumption she had come to the previous night was right, she shouldn't smoke for many months to come.

"What're ya doin'?" Daryl asked her when he was her press the tip of the cigarette to the edge of the truck carefully, vanishing the ember without ruining the stick.

"I shouldn't be –" she stopped herself. There was no way she was telling him, she hadn't been able to admit it even to herself yet. Sam was still a long way from telling anyone else about it. "– wasting it. I wanna save it, don't wanna run out of 'em. You should slow down a bit, too."

Daryl shrugged and smoked the whole thing anyway as they stood side by side in silence, looking around. They waited for Merle to return and asked him to guard their stuff, to which he complied immediately by taking his gun out of the holster and jumping up on the bed of the truck. He sat down on the roof of the car, the gun resting on his thigh, but still pretty visible.

Nobody's radio was working, seemed all the transmissions had been cut out completely. Daryl and Sam could see people were more worried now, on the edge of panic. They had wandered away for about half a mile when their attention was turned upwards to the sky, where half a dozen helicopters flew past the road towards the city. People started running to the woods, eager to see what was happening, and Daryl followed suit, his hand grabbing Sam's wrist, dragging her along without a word.

Not far from the road on the woods, Atlanta was visible from above. They could see there was no electrical light there, giving the place a gloomy atmosphere. The helicopters were just reaching the city as Daryl and Sam stopped there to watch, along with many other people.

There was a moment of silence, of stillness, and then the chaos proceeded. The helicopters dropped bombs down on the streets, massive explosions with fires higher than a few buildings. It was surreal. In the few seconds before the sound of the explosions could reach them, it felt like it wasn't really happening, like it was a scene in a very well-done movie on a very realistic screen.

Daryl's hand was still clutching Sam's wrist when the sound came. Deafening explosions, and then it was like everything else exploded along with the city. People were screaming in terror, crying, pacing around as they watched their only immediate hope fly through the air.

"Son of a bitch!" Sam heard Daryl shout and woke up from her own daze of disbelief.

"No!" she yelled. "Fuck, no!"

After a long round of cursing, heart pumping painfully in her chest, Sam stopped, hands resting on her knees, trying to breathe and think. What to do, where to go were the main questions, along with what was going on and why did they bomb the city? Her mind was working fast, reaching no conclusion, and it fell once again in the possibility – quite strong possibility, she knew it – that she would have to look out for the safety of a child now, not only her own safety and her road companion's anymore. If there was no Atlanta, no shelter, no help coming from anywhere, was there any future?

Sam had asked herself that before in life, not just a few times. Was there a future? She had given up and resumed fighting and given up again on and on in her life, but now it felt different. This was new, this was unknown. It felt like a brand new day, and now it wasn't just her. She wasn't alone any longer. Taking a deep breath, Sam straightened up, squared her shoulders and swallowed down the lump of despair in her throat, making it disappear instantly, the fire burning from the city in the distance reflecting on her green, darkened eyes.

There would be a future; she was going to make sure there would be.

She was aware of Daryl pacing around her, hands of his head, staring at the city, cursing a little more. That was it, then. They had come all the way over here to be sure if there was or there wasn't a chance in Atlanta, said they had to know, whatever it was. Now they knew.

"We gotta find a quiet place." Her voice sounded firm over the chaos and she all but felt Daryl stop pacing by her side, even though she couldn't see him, her eyes still trained on burning Atlanta. "Gotta make distance from the crowds. Shit will hit the fan any moment now."

"Let's go." Daryl's voice was low, but also decisive.

Sam hadn't been aware of how cold she was until his warm hand touched her bare shoulder. Turning around at his motioning, she looked at two people standing close to them. A man was staring wide-eyed to Atlanta, mouth agape, and the woman was buried in his chest, clinging to him and crying desperately.

It bothered Sam more than it probably should, but being a woman herself she hated to see her sisters in distress, or in danger or being weak. She had gotten in trouble before because of that. Images of years ago came back to her mind, when she saw a friend being hit by her boyfriend and the heat rising to her face, thoughts gone as she lunged herself at the guy, gripping his neck and punching the side of his head. It had seemed to be working, until the guy overpowered her and she woke up at the hospital a day later, along with her friend. Seeing a woman succumb to her weakness was not as bad as seeing them being assaulted, but it bothered her anyway. Before she knew it, Sam's feet had carried her to the couple and she was touching the woman's shoulder, startling her and the man, who stared at her wide-eyed. Sam didn't look at him, only at her.

"Pull it together, girl," she told the woman firmly and gently at the same time. "It's not the time for that. We gotta be strong now. Hell, we always had to be, but now more than ever. Pull it together."

She was sure the woman was going to snap at her, tell her to mind her own business in the end of the world, because after a few seconds, the woman still stared at her, her brown eyes shining with tears, and the man had clutched to her even stronger now, protectively. Sam took a step back and turned towards Daryl, who had been standing there waiting, stunned at Sam's action.

"Thank you," Sam heard the woman say, her voice not as weak as she expected. Sam didn't turn and kept stepping away. "You're right," she spoke again and Sam finally stopped and turned to see the woman standing alone, having left the man's arms.

Sam smiled and nodded at her.

"Do you have any idea what to do now?" the woman asked as Sam had turned one more time.

"Lori, I..." the man by her side started speaking, not looking at Sam. "I don't think nobody knows what to do now, but I know we gotta –"

"You have to leave the crowd," Sam told her what she had told Daryl. "It's 'bout to get ugly."

With that she turned again, reaching an impatient Daryl who let her step in front of him to lead the way back to the road. As he followed her, Daryl heard steps right behind him and turned to see that couple following them. The man was behind Daryl and he stared, not stopping.

"You right," the man said. "We got a kid. Need to get outta here."

"Ya left a kid alone on the road?" Daryl asked over his shoulder.

Sam and Daryl walked back towards the car, quick steps, noticing the other two were heading in the same direction. As they found Merle, still perched on the roof of the truck, Sam noticed the couple stopped at a car with another couple and two children, all looking positively desperate. The look on Merle's face was not so calm either. The sarcastic smirk always present was gone.

"The fuck have ya'll been?" he yelled at the two as they arrived, now standing up by the motorcycle. "Fuckin' shit exploded!"

"We saw it!" Daryl said angrily.

"We shoulda seen that comin'." Sam was pacing. "They bombed other big cities, I shoulda known."

They talked in circles for a while, trying to calm down. Sam had to ignore Merle for a while, his remarks not helping at all.

"Ya said we gotta find a place." Daryl told her. "I'm with ya, should set camp somewhere and keep an eye out for walkers and other people."

"Especially for people," Merle said staring fixedly down the road.

Sam and Daryl followed his stare to see the man from before approaching their car. Merle puffed his chest menacingly, standing with his gun. The man eyed him carefully, but stood in front of Daryl and Sam.

"Sorry, I didn't introduce myself," he started. "I'm Officer Shane Walsh".

Merle snorted aloud and Officer Shane looked at him briefly.

"Sam. This is Daryl and that's Merle."

Shane nodded and kept talking. "Lori and I met this other couple by our car, they also got a kid. We're thinkin' 'bout leavin' the road to find a place and set camp. You're right when ya said we gotta leave the crowd. I'm a cop, I know how people can get."

"We get that yer a cop, Officer." Merle laughed.

"Don't gotta be a cop to know how people can get." Daryl said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"And why ya tellin' us that?" Sam asked.

"Because we need people," Shane answered. "It's safer in numbers. More eyes to watch out, more sets of hands to find food. And I noticed ya got weaponry," he pointed at Daryl who had his crossbow hanging on his back and looked at Merle's gun.

"They're not the only ones we got," Daryl said gravely.

"All I'm sayin' is that if ya wanna join, we leave in the morning. We'll be right over there."

They watched as Shane took a few steps back before turning and heading back to his car. Daryl moved to the truck, but Sam stood there, watching the man retreat.

"Safer in numbers," Merle repeated from his spot above them. "That's bullshit."

"Why, ya don't think it's safer?" Sam asked, finally moving from her place. She jumped over to sit on the side of the truck, legs hanging off of it.

"Ya can't trust people," he answered. "We better off on our own."

"I don't know, Merle…" Sam said and threw one of her legs into the truck and reached for a backpack. "Guy had a point. We know what's out there, but we still know nothin'. I mean, we don't know how many of those things we'll find anywhere we go; we don't know how many looters we'll find either."

"We can take care of it," Daryl said approaching them. He threw a bag of chips to Merle and another to Sam.

"Yeah, we can, but to a limit," she replied, holding the bag of chips and fishing into her bag, removing a can of anchovies after a moment. "If people start grouping like this guy wants, looters will, too. Best way against a big group would be to be in a big group, as well."

They ate in silence for a moment, thinking. Mouthful of chips, Daryl restarted the discussion. "Ya right. So ya think we should go with 'em?"

"Not sure." Sam made a face. "Guy's kinda...I don't know."

"Guy sniffs," Merle clarified. "Can see it in his eyes."

"Damn, right, that's it," Sam agreed, pointing briefly at Merle. "I knew I knew that look. But that's not all," she paused to take a sip of water. "Don't know, just don't like him. Think I might go there and chit chat for a bit. See what I can find 'bout the others."

She jumped down after finishing eating and walked over to the two cars, six people gathering around them, leaving Daryl and Merle behind.

"Hi, excuse me," she said softly as she approached and all of them looked at her.

"Uh, hi." Shane rubbed his nose. "This is Sam. She and her friends are considering joining us to set up camp, ain't that right?" he asked with a smile.

"Yeah, we, uh… Well, we've been alone, just the three of us since the beginning so, you know."

"Where are you coming from?" the same woman Sam had talked before asked. She remembered her name vaguely. Lori, she guessed.

"South. We left Savannah four days ago."

"How was it there?" Shane asked.

"Overrun just like nearly every town we passed. Saw people still around in Macon, but it wasn't pretty."

"Do you..." a short haired, graying woman approached, arms crossed, voice small. She paused before starting again. "Do you know something? About what this is?"

Sam shook her head slowly. "I know just as much as you do… Dead people rising up, no authority know anything about it. Radio said it was virus, then bacteria, parasite, then that they had a cure, then that they hadn't a clue…" she breathed out and crossed her arms. "And now, they bombed Atlanta, where we thought we'd find shelter, so… Yeah, I'm just as clueless as you are."

"What about them?" Shane asked, looking pointedly at her truck a few yards away.

"What about 'em?" Sam repeated, puffing her chest a little and straightening her back. She later wondered where this gesture came from. When had she become protective of the Dixons?

"Ain't the friendliest kind of guys when I went over there."

"We got things, they're protecting it," Sam explained shortly. "We scavenged and we got attacked. They ain't friendly to any stranger who comes close. Do you blame 'em?"

"People are not going to steal from you…" the frail-looking woman said again.

Behind her, a large man with big nose snorted, shaking his head. His wife looked back at him and visibly shrunk. She literally shrunk, retracting her shoulders into herself and looking at the ground.

"What is it, Ed?" Shane asked the man.

"Women's fuckin' naivety gonna get us robbed. Or killed," he said, looking around and then rested his eyes on his wife. "Do us all a favor, Carol, quit sticking your oar in."

Sam watched as the woman, Carol, with cheeks pink with embarrassment, turned away from the group, going to stand with the two children. Lori looked at Sam just then and they exchanged a knowing look. Sam had to breathe and swallow down a lump of anger that rose in her chest. She didn't hide the feeling on her eyes, though, as she stared at Ed. He threw the butt of his cigarette to the floor and stomped on it, staring down at her.

"Think they're right." Shane moved on, ignoring what had just happened. "That's what we gotta do, too. Lori, could ya please close the car? Our things are in there and nobody's keeping watch."

Lori nodded and moved to do as he said. Before reaching her car, though, she turned to look at Sam and gave her one single nod, beckoning her to come along. Confused, Sam uncrossed her arms and followed her.

"He's been doing it all night." Lori said as they stood together away from the others' ears. "He's already yelled at the girl, Sophia, and denied Carl food."

"Ok, so, Sophia is the little girl, and Carl –"

"Carl is my son."

"The woman is Carol?"

"Yeah. Shane is not sure if he wants Ed in the group, he told me. He knows the man's trouble."

"Even if it means that his wife and daughter are out, too?"

"Well, they could come with us if –"

"Ain't no way they're coming without Ed. Man's got her tied to his strings," Sam interrupted. "Ed is coming, but not because of him. Because of them. I ain't leaving them behind."

Lori looked a little confused at Sam, digesting that she had just made a decision, but she nodded anyway, relieved. "Ok. Good."

"Now, close the car and get back to your husband. I'll go get you and Carl some food," she said and turned to leave.

"Oh, uh…" Lori made her stop. "Shane isn't my husband."

"Oh?"

"No, my husband was…Well, he's gone. Shane's his friend, he helped us."

"Oh. Ok. Sorry about your husband."

As she reproached Shane, Sam heard the doors of the car being closed somewhere behind her. "You didn't bring any food?" Sam asked the man. Shane was sitting in the driver's seat, door open, fumbling with the radio, trying to get some station on the dial.

"No. Just packed some clothes and some camping stuff…Thought we'd be at the shelter by now."

"We got stuff. Food," she said and turned to look at where Ed was still standing, listening to them. "If ya have food, too, it's time to share, or ya outta the group," she stated, gesturing at him and saw some rage fill the man's face, but turned away ignoring it, and kept speaking to Shane. "We gotta ration, don't know when we'll come across food again. They can hunt," she said nodding towards her car, to where Shane looked quickly before returning his attention to her. "So if we find some forest or a park, it'd be the best."

"That's what I was thinking," Shane agreed. "But we can't move now. Gotta wait for the first light."

"Yeah," was all she said as she left him in his seat.

Sam walked back to the car. On her way there, she saw two men starting a fight by one of the cars, and dodged away from them before they got physical. Merle poked Daryl to catch his attention, showing him Sam was coming back.

"So, what ya say, boss?" Merle smirked.

"We got ourselves a group." She decided firmly, ignoring his sarcasm.

"You sure about that?" Daryl rested his elbows on the side of the truck, looking at her sideways.

"Yeah, pretty sure. But I don't like neither of the men. Shane with his weird eyes and that officer stance, and the other one, Ed, who is a sexist son of a bitch who probably beats up his wife."

"Why you wanna stay then?" Daryl asked.

"We're safer in numbers, like Officer Sniffers said. And I think any group that has children have people willing to fight any way they can to protect them. Call that an advantage."

"Alright." Merle nodded. "But I ain't gonna take orders from the cop. Not 'bout to become nobody's bitch."

"Cop's not the leader." Sam said moving to take some food from the truck. "I'll be damned if I let him order around. He might be useful for security stuff, though, you know, experienced in these kinda things, I'll give him that."

"Yeah, just gotta tell him that." Daryl handed her a bottle of water to go with the potato chips she had in hand.

Sam snorted a laugh. "I'm gonna, don't worry. You guys should go over there and meet 'em."

Daryl snorted rudely. "I can join the group, but I ain't gonna make social. Forget it," he said, walking away.

"I'll go with ya, love." Merle said hopping down to the asphalt by her side. "Don't worry, I got your back."

"Yeah, I do worry." she said reaching out a hand to make him stop, and turned to him. "Listen, Merle, this is important. When you're being, you know, yourself, with just Daryl and me, it's alright, we can deal with it. But we're gonna need to live together with these people for fuck knows how long, so you gonna have to pretend to be…Normal. Well, as normal as possible."

"Sayin' I ain't normal, sugar?"

"Yeah." She told him matter-of-factly. "Come on, don't act offended, you know it's true. You always barking and making offensive comments about everything, ain't everybody gonna let it go. Last thing we need now is to pick a fight and have to hit the road again."

"Nah, you listen, muffin. I ain't gonna act like what I ain't. I'm a man of opinion, and I ain't scared of sayin' it."

"Yeah, that's precious. You can give your opinion all you want, but give it to me. I'll filter it and translate into something people can digest. You know how people are with 'feelings,'" she said, rolling her eyes at the word and making a quote gesture. "And I need you, Merle. I need both you and Daryl in this group, so it will be safe. So I'll feel safe. Come on, please?"

Merle sniffed, looking down at her in silence for a moment, then rubbed his shaved head, looked around, and finally breathed out and looked at her again.

"If that's what ya need me to do, I'll do it. And I'll keep an eye on those two somabitches for ya, alright?"

"Alright," she smiled, relieved. "Thanks, Merle." She slapped his arm before leading the way to the rest of the group.

"Any good piece of ass over there, at least?"

"No," Sam told him firmly, but laughed. "You stay away from those women."

"Well, a man's gotta eat!"

"Yeah, so do the dead."


	7. Day 15

Day 15

A flock of birds flew through the sky above the road, chirping loudly and joyfully as the first rays of the sun lit up the landscape, pinks and oranges painting it beautifully. A clear contrast against the road, infinite rows of cars parked in line, gloomy and quiet. It was like nature was mocking them, pretending nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Like it was celebrating the fact that the city a few miles away had been bombed; celebrating that nature had finally won over humanity.

Sam had been staring at the sunrise for a while, sitting on the roof of the car, arms hugging her knees against her chest. After a while she took a deep breath and felt the air was fresh; the smoke from the cars' exhausts having dissipated hours ago. Sam had always liked the sky. One good think of having lived in Garden City was that she could always see the sky there; bright nights of full moons or with millions of shining stars; and the sunrise. More often than not, when the sky was clear, she left her house a few minutes earlier than necessary just so she could take a glimpse of the sky.

Now, on top of the truck, head turned up to avoid seeing the rows of cars and strange, hopeless people around, she felt a tiny flicker of normalcy. The world was still out there; it was only different. By her side, having been silent for more than one hour, Daryl had his elbows resting on his knees, biting into his lower lip, mind seemingly miles away but his presence still there, solid by Sam's side.

"About this group." He slowly broke the silence in a real low voice, for Sam's ears only.

Sam turned her head to look at him for a moment and waited for him to go on, but he didn't say anything else, his thumb now suffering the abuse from his teeth.

"Yeah?" Sam finally encouraged him in a whisper, which made Daryl turn his head to look at her.

"I don't like people." He said lowering his eyes after a few seconds, and it sounded like a confession.

"I know."

"Don't trust them." He looked at her again.

"I know. I don't either."

He didn't answer, but also didn't look away, again biting into his lip.

"That's why I need you and Merle with me." she moved on gently. "We'll be with them for safety. For a real camp, for weapons and more look outs, for food."

"But we –" Daryl said suddenly, without a thought, and stopped himself abruptly.

"The three of us?" Sam whispered leaning a bit closer to him, like she was sharing a secret. "We're our own group, from the beginning. I'd like to keep it that way."

Daryl kept quiet again, eyes fixed on hers, dancing fro right to left, searching for something. He then nodded slowly, no longer biting on his lip, trying to see if she really meant it.

"We're still it… Right?" he asked in the same whisper a moment later.

Sam took a moment to understand. Being in a group, as small as it was with only three people, seemed to mean more to Daryl than he had ever let out, and Sam understood it by his question and unguarded expression; unguarded like she had never seen before.

"Of course." She said softly, hiding well her surprise. "We'll always be it. No matter the group we're in. You and me…" she paused "…and Merle. We'll stick together." she gave him a small, reassuring smile and felt the need to add "Right?" having a sudden need to also hear it.

Daryl nodded. "Right. I'll have your back."

"Yeah." Sam smiled. "And I got yours." and lightly shoved his shoulder with hers, receiving the same gesture back a moment after, accompanied by a tight little closed lips smile.

She was still smiling as she looked again to the sunrise, feeling strangely content for someone in her situation. By her side, Daryl stole a few more glances at her, not lingering for too long on each look, but carefully taking in the art on her arm. A perfectly drawn green hummingbird seemed to be flying among orange flowers, right above Sam's elbow. A little higher, on her shoulder, the silhouette of a little girl standing, arm outstretched towards a balloon that was clearly soaring away from her. Under the balloon, a date; August 1998.

As he observed Sam, Daryl knew something weird was happening to him. He had always thought that the only one he could ever count on in his life, other than himself for the most part of time, would be Merle. Even so, he knew Merle would not be there for him for whatever he needed, Merle didn't have his back. He hadn't stayed to protect him when he needed it the most in the past, so he had been convinced he, and he alone was _it_. Now the girl who had grown up by his house but never been his friend was here, by his side, saying they'd stick together and that she'd be there for him. Something inside forced him not o believe it. He had believed Merle before; he should never believe anybody else.

Why did he believe it, then, and why did he feel like he had never spoken truer words in his life?

"Uh, hey, hum…" an uncertain voice woke him from his thoughts and he noticed he'd been staring at Sam. At the sound of this stranger's voice, he noticed Sam was already looking at the young man, an Asian with a cap who looked like no more than a teenager. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah?" Sam was the one to speak.

"I heard you talking last night? This is my car." he pointed to the one parked right by theirs. "I wasn't trying to overhear, just… Heard you. I'm Glenn, by the way."

"Yeah, _Glenn,_ what did ya hear?" Daryl asked annoyed by the interruption.

"You're forming a group to get away from the road and set camp?"

"That a question?" Sam asked straightening her back and crossing her arms.

"No. Question is if I can join."

Sam looked at him for one more moment before looking at Daryl. He shrugged, "You call it."

She looked again at Glenn, "You know how to do something useful?"

"I learned how to shoot years ago, but I don't have a gun. And I can run pretty fast, won competitions at school… I've killed a few of the dead when I was escaping, so I think I can deal with them. And Atlanta?" he kept going as he pointed towards some random spot with his thumb over his shoulder. "I know the streets like my own backyard, if it's needed to go there for something. I just… Yeah."

Sam simply stared at him for a long moment, one eyebrow up, thinking for so long even Daryl looked from Glenn to her to see what was going on. She was expressionless, calculating the guy. Suddenly, her face broke into a slight grin.

"Yeah, you can come."

Glenn smiled. "Oh, phew! Good, thanks!" and he looked at Daryl, smiling. "Hey!"

"Yeah." was all he got as an answer, just as Sam hopped down to the floor and extended her hand at the boy.

"I'm Sam." they shook hands. "This is Daryl, and there's one more sleeping in the car, name's Merle."

Daryl also fell to the asphalt and hit the front of the car three times with his palm. "Wake up!" he shouted and they watched as Merle woke up from a deep daze, defensively looking around the road through the windows, asking "what" repeatedly.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Sam said in a sing-song voice.

"Son of a bitch!" was is answer

Daryl poked Sam and pointed down the road, to where Shane and Lori approached them being followed by three new people who hadn't been there last night.

"Morning." Shane greeted them. "You guys ready?"

"Almost." Sam answered. "Hey, this is Glenn, he'll be joining us."

Shane eyed Glenn for a moment, as the boy waved awkwardly at him, and looked back at Sam, seeming annoyed.

"Ya picking up people now?"

Instead of an answer, Sam leaned to her left to be able to look at the three new people behind Shane; an older man with a bucket hat and two blonde girls, very similar to each other. She looked at each of them for a moment then smiled. "Hi, I don't believe we met, I'm Sam." and looked back at Shane, smile vanishing in a blink of an eye. "Yes, I am, just like you."

"Dale's go an RV. Might be useful." Shane explained. "Andrea and Amy were with him."

"And Glenn needed a group. He can run." she finished and looked again at the three people. "Welcome to the group. We're heading back south 85 until we find some other road. Gonna look around checking for places. After we find it, all our supplies will be rationed and shared. Get used to the idea."

"Hey, can I speak to you for a moment?" Shane asked Sam and touched her arm to nudge her away from the group. Sam felt Daryl tense by her side, taking a step to follow them.

"Alone?" Shane asked looking from her to him, eyebrows raised.

"Anything you gotta say to me, you can say it to Daryl. Gonna him later anyway."

Shane breathed out loudly as to control something that had instantly boiled inside him. Daryl wondered what the cop was going to say to Sam that his presence seemed to ruin it, but he didn't say anything, just followed them with his arms crossed.

"Look, it's just…" Shane started once they were away from the rest of the group. "I've come to you and invited ya to join my group. Right? Glad you accepted, but we gotta set some boundaries here. Can't have too many people calling on decisions here. I'm an officer, alright? I know how to deal with things."

"You're a cop?" Daryl asked in an impressed tone, making Sam turn her head to look at him, standing a little behind her. She'd never heard him joke before. "Really? Hadn't heard about it yet."

Sam suppressed a laugh, a smile playing on her lips. By the look in Shane's eyes, he was quickly approaching some kind of limit that she preferred not to push. At least not for now.

"Being a cop in the fuckin' end of the world ain't gonna mean that much, Shane. We all got abilities here, you got yours, I got mine. If ya think you'll be making all the decisions for the group just 'cause of the profession ya had before the end o the fuckin' world, well, you wrong."

"Now look here –"

"You _will_ be making decisions…" Sam interrupted raising her voice and a hand between them to make him stop talking "if that's _so_ important to you, _if_ you make reasonable decisions. That's all it's gonna take. For now, this group has no leader. We don't know you, alright? Ya can't expect people to do as you say with no questions asked."

"Ain't that what you jus' did?"

"I stated the obvious, is what I did. Last night we talked about leaving the road, the only possible way _is_ south. About finding a place, sharing and rationing things, all things we talked about last night. Ain't that what we gotta do?"

Shane stared at her in silence, big eyed, hands on his hips. After a moment he nodded, tongue liking his teeth, and looked from her to Daryl and back again. With that, he turned his back to them, returning to the group.

"Alright, let's all get the cars and turn around to south, it's time now. We'll travel together."

The day felt like a week as it passed slowly, the stuck traffic on the road making the cars, truck and RV need to navigate through the grassy path between the lanes of the road, ever so slowly. Down south on 85, the asphalt was little less packed with cars and they were able o gain a little speed, but by then it was already mid-afternoon. They were unable to leave the main road that day. When evening started to come, they decided to stop in the middle of nowhere, not having a better place to do that. By this time, their caravan was already bigger. One more car and a van had started following them at about four in the afternoon. Shane had sped up to catch up with Sam and the Dixon's truck.

"Ya think we should be worried 'bout these guys following us?" Shane had asked aloud with both cars moving.

"Saw them too, huh?" Merle shouted from the driver's seat.

"Yeah, 'bout a mile ago."

"Let's stop." Sam yelled from Merle's side. "We'll see what they want."

Shane and Sam had gone opening the party, Merle, Daryl and Glenn standing behind them. It had turned out to be a family, the Morales couple with their two children, and two more people they had picked up to help on the road, Jim and Jackie. Behind them, alone in a van, was a man named Theodore, but he preferred to be called T-Dog. They talked for a while with those six new people, who practically begged to go and set camp with them, before Shane rubbed his nose, scratched his head and, finally, looked at Sam. She had been quiet almost all the time, and as she looked back at Shane, she nodded. She didn't think these people would be the kind they'd like to avoid. At her acceptance, Shane told it would be ok for them to follow.

"Yeah, that's a good one." Merle mumbled when the three reentered their truck. "Picking up strays. Latinos and niggers. Gonna start mixin' up our kinds now?"

"Fuck, shut up, ya dickhead!" Daryl groaned from the opposite window.

"See, that's the kinda comment ya gotta keep just here among us, huh?" Sam said. "You say that to them, you start a fight, shit hit the fan even before the camp's settled."

"Whatever. But ya think like I do, dontcha princess?"

"Of course not! You're being an asshole again. A racist asshole, to make it worse."

Merle said even more racist things for a while and Sam answered to them for a moment, before realizing that working herself up trying to convince Merle of something was a complete waste of time. After a while she and Daryl just told Merle to shut up once again, Merle told them to go fuck themselves, and everything was peaceful again. Now night had fallen and a fire had been built on the side of the road. Glenn was standing on top of the RV keeping watch and Jim was doing the same in the middle of the road. They were exactly twenty people – four children, seven women, nine men. Around the fire, all the women were sitting together, light conversation rolling between them, a clear search for bonding starting to happen, asking each other what they did before the turn, telling about their lives.

Jackie told them she worked at Atlanta's city hall, but hadn't been in the city on the turning days. She had just lost a cousin in LaGrange and had been there for the funeral. She heard the news about what was happening on the radio as she drove back home. At some point on 85 she got a flat tire and started walking her way up the road. Jackie had walked for hours and was completely exhausted when the Morales pulled up for her and offered a lift. They had just done the same for Jim miles before. On the Morales' car, she got acquainted to Miranda, who gave her water and something to eat. Their family had been driving from much closer to Atlanta, in search for the shelter. Miranda told them she and her husband were married for almost fifteen years and she was a housewife. Lori and Carol both told they were full-time moms and wives as well. Carol didn't say much about herself, retreating from the subject by asking Lori about her husband.

Lori told them he had been a deputy-sheriff in King County and had been shot on duty weeks ago. He had passed away in the hospital just days before, Lori said with a trembling voice and unshed tears in her eyes. Her husband's best friend had run to their house to pick her and Carl up to take them to the shelter. To enlighten a little the mood, they kept on the subject, Andrea telling them she was a civil-rights lawyer and had been on a road-trip with her sister, Amy, driving her back to college when it all happened. They had been caught up in a walker attack on the road and Dale, with his RV, had helped them to get out, only to later be caught up on the traffic.

The other women finally asked Sam what she did, and she told them she was a single waitress who went to adult school at night and jumped around things for sport on the weekends, and that was it. As she spoke, Sam noticed Carol looking around, eyes searching for something worriedly.

"Uh… Have any of you seen Sophia?" she asked in her small voice.

"She left minutes ago, I saw her get up." Lori told her. "I thought she had told you she was leaving."

"No…"

"Where did she go?" Sam asked Lori.

"Towards their car."

"Oh… I think she went to sleep then. I'd better –" she started motioning to get up.

"I think it's alright, Ed is in the car, isn't he?" Andrea asked in order to make Carol stay.

"Uh… Yeah. He is…" she got up anyway, a nervous look to the car. "I gonna go there anyway. Good night, girls."

The other women were silent as she left. Jackie looked around at the other's faces, looking for someone who was thinking the same as her, and found Sam by her side taking a deep breath, brows furrowed, looking at Carol as she reached the car. Sam then looked back at Jackie, their glance exchange telling them all they had to know. The group dispersed shortly after that, each woman going to try and find comfort to sleep for a few hours in their own cars. Sam went to where Daryl was sitting and smoking on the hood of their truck – Merle had just left him to go sleep inside. She sat by him and they didn't say anything as Daryl handed her a cigarette. She took it and held it between her fingers, but denied with a gesture when Daryl reached out with his lighter. Still holding it, Sam rested her elbows on her knees and Daryl's eyes were attracted to her extended arms once again, now able to look at the opposite one, filled with colorful tattoos. He recognized a phoenix on fire on her shoulder, but as he lowered his eyes to study more of the drawings, Sam cut the silence.

"Ed definitely beats up his wife." she whispered making Daryl's eyes dart up to her profile. "May touch his girl as well, but I ain't sure 'bout that yet."

Daryl took a deep breath then, looking to the same direction Sam was; the Pelletier's car.

"Son of a bitch." he whispered back.

"I know I got nothing with this."

"Yeah?"

"But if I see something…"

"Won't blame ya."


	8. Day 16

A narrow dirt road went up a small hill away from Atlanta. An old sign miles before had told them it lead to a deactivated quarry. The clearing on top of the hill had never been that silent; the constant humming of cars and machinery from the cities at the distance completely gone, now only part of the past. Blue sky, warm sun, singing birds seemed to have not witnessed the end of the world as humanity knew it. For those, it hadn't ended. Nothing was different except for the silence they hadn't known for many years. Silence that was broken, though, by the caravan that approached slowly, carefully in the early afternoon. All the cars stopped and were turned off, the silence returning abruptly.

Nobody moved for a while, looking around though the closed windows of their cars. The clearing overlooked the road that had lead that way and a deep, old quarry filled with crystal clear water and large patch of woods all around it. After seeing there was no movement, from the dead and the living alike, the group started pouring out of the cars as the empty, small field was filled with the group silently looking around, walking the perimeter, guns ready. Dale climbed up on his RV to check the view, Merle entered the woods, Shane walked for a few yards down the patch that'd take them down to the water, Sam checked the clearing just on the line of the woods, Daryl checked the perimeter for walkers. The other men on camp watched their backs, all the women gathered around one of the cars with the children. After a few minutes of silence, everybody gathered wordlessly in the middle of the area.

"I think it looks good," Glenn risked shyly, being the first to break the silence.  
"Yeah," T-Dog agreed. "High enough to make it harder for the dead to come."

"I think we could set camp here, at least for now." Dale also spoke up.

"Woods' good to find food", Daryl mumbled quietly.

"Rabbit, dear… Maybe pigs." Merle contrasted with his brother by opining loudly. "Could be barbecuing soon."

"Water down there might have fish too." Shane nodded. They all looked at each other nodding in agreement, and Shane crossed his arms when he looked at Sam. "What ya think?"

"Gotta check deeper for walkers." she said worriedly, making a shade to cover her eyes from the afternoon sun with a hand. "Seems a good place, but gotta be sure. Set a safety perimeter on the woods, go down to the quarry as well and see if it's really empty. If it's alright, we set camp here. There's a good spot over there to set the tents." she pointed to where she had been looking before.

"Thought 'bout setting 'em right here." Shane disagreed shaking his head.

"I think we gotta use this as a living area." Sam insisted crossing her arms. "Make a fire in the middle, put the cars there at the entrance to protect the area and sleep further from it. It'll be safer if something or someone comes though the road."

"Sleeping in the woods don't seem dangerous to you?" Shane asked with a smirk before rubbing at his nose.

"Not if we get the area clear." Daryl was the one to answer, coming to stand by Sam.

"This part here's too close to the road," Merle agreed. "If anyone comes that way, better not find us right away."

"Especially if most are sleeping." Glenn completed with an apologetic tone.

Without saying anything, Shane finally nodded his agreement, his eyes on Sam. She swallowed down the irritation she felt at the fact that the men had only repeated what she had said before, but it was only when they spoke that Shane agreed.

"Let's split up to check it. Sooner the better if we want to get settled before night." she said avoiding looking at him again, arms still crossed and hands balled into fists. "Who's already killed a walker?"

The men looked at each other. Sam watched them, Daryl and Merle standing one on each side, also facing the others. Glenn looked around for a moment before raising a hand, a shy smile on his lips.

"Me too," T-Dog said after a moment. "Though I ain't sure it really died, I ran after hitting it."

"No one else?" Merle asked after the silence that followed. "Fuck, and here we thinkin' it'd be safer in a fuckin' group!"

"Ya never killed a walker?" Daryl asked for confirmation in disbelief.

"Never had too", Dale shrugged.

"Just escaped by running and avoiding them" Shane completed.

"Shit." Sam rubbed her face. "Ya'll know it's gonna happen? Ya gonna have to kill them."

"How do you kill someone who's already dead?" Dale asked.

"We saw on tv the cops shooting them and they just kept comin'." T-Dog said amongst a shiver. "That's why I ain't sure that one died."

"You hit the brain." Sam said as a matter-of-fact.

"And you don't make noise." Daryl stated. "Anything loud enough will attract them."

"Gotta lot to teach ya kids." Merle laughed. "Damn, gotta teach 'em it all!"

Sam crossed her arms again and turned away from them. She walked over to the car where the rest of the group was waiting, the men following her.

"We gonna stay here, but only after we check the area", she started and the quiet conversation that had been going on among them died out to give her full attention. "I'd suggest whoever can't kill a walker to stay inside the cars, but it's up to you. Gonna have to learn how to do any anyway."

"Do you know how to kill them?" It was Amy who asked, uncertain, glued to her older sister's side.

"Yeah. We ran into lots of them on our way here."

Ed, who was leaning against the car, once again smoking a cigarette, snorted aloud. "Mustn't be a big challenge, then." he mumbled smirking before pulling on the cigarette.

"You haven't killed any, have you?" Sam asked him in a louder voice. By his side, his wife Carol, arms crossed, moved uncomfortably.

"Nah." Ed shook his head. "Doesn't worry me though. If ya can do it…"

"Alright, fella!" Merle cut before Sam could answer. "Let's see whatcha can do then! Go on, ya comin' with."

Shaking her head, Sam walked away from the group, mainly away from where Merle walked with Ed, not wanting to hear anything else the later said. People gathered again in the middle of the field after gathering a few weapons from the cars, a few of the women joining them as well, except for Carol, Miranda and Amy, who decided to stay inside a car with the children. They were instructed no not leave he car in any circumstance. If a walker appeared, they'd just not panic and stay there; walkers apparently couldn't open car doors.

"Alright everybody!" Shane started clapping his hand together once. "Apparently most of us have never had to deal hand to hand with a dead, or a –" and he looked smiling amused at where Sam and Daryl stood together. "– a walker? That what you call them?" Shane paused, as if waiting for an answer, but got none. Sam and Daryl stared back at him, expressions unchanging. Shane cleared his throat, looked down for a second before raising it again and moved on. "But if we gonna set camp here and keep it safe, we all have to be able to do it. We'll protect each other from them; we will protect the weakest and the children, so we gotta know how to do it."

"But… Kill?" Lori spoke worriedly. "I don't know, it feels strange… I mean, they might have got this decease, this something we don't know what is, but they're people," and she looked around, looking for support. "Right?"

"Wrong." Merle said from where he had been hovering outside the group.

"They're dead." Daryl said and everyone looked at him. It was probably the first time he spoke up in front of the whole group. "They're no people no more."

"It _was_ a person up until they died," Sam completed his thought. "Then they just get up and try to eat you. You don't kill it; it kills you, simple as that."

"See one of 'em going for your kid, ya gonna know how ya feel 'bout it." Daryl's quiet voice sounded grave.

Sam only nodded when all of the others exchanged nervous looks, and nobody voiced any more worries about it, although Sam knew by their looks they all still had many.

"Alright, we gotta check the area soon if we want the tents up to sleep in tonight." Shane cut the silence, clapping his hands once more as he repeated Sam's words from before. "Now, the only ones of us who have ever had to kill them were our Savannah friends over there and Glenn." he nodded at the Asian boy's direction and then at where Sam and Daryl stood, Merle out of the circle but hovering somewhere behind his two road companions. "I'd say we listen to their orientations about it."

"Go on, babykins." Merle said and stood behind her, tall enough to look at the others from above her head. "Show'em how it's done."

She turned her head slightly to look at Merle for only an instant, an amused grin on her face, and looked back. "Best thing would be to show ya, but I'm glad to see we don't have any walkers around right now, so you'll see as we walk around the area in a minute. Most important thing ya gotta know is that they do not die if you don't hit their brain. You cut the head off the body, the head still tries to bite you." she saw some reaction from the people around, especially from women, but ignored it and moved on. "Best way is with a knife through the eye socket, this part's easier 'cause you won't need to break through skull. Never forget to pull the knife off, don't let it fall down with the walker of you'll be unarmed if another one approaches."

"Can't we just shoot them?" T-Dog asked. "We got guns."

"Guns will ring the dinner bell," it was Daryl who answered. "Any walker around who heard it will turn to ya. I say only use guns if ya have no other option."

"Plus we won't have bullets forever, gotta make 'em last," Sam agreed. "That's it in theory, seems easy but when you do it the first time ya might get scared, I know I did. They are loud, disgusting and smell horrible, but you gotta know that if you freeze, you can die."

"Well, that's cheery." Andrea smiled nervously.

"Anyone got another question or can we just go and kill 'em motherfuckers already?" Daryl asked as he swung his crossbow from his back and held it pointing to the ground.

Mumbling in agreement, the group followed. Sam and Daryl walked in front of them, Merle closing the group without having to be asked to. Everybody was silent, Sam could feel their nervousness and wondered for a moment it walkers were like cats who could pick up the energy of the people around.

"What?" she heard Daryl ask quietly by her side, and only then she noticed she had been smiling.

"Oh, nothing… Just if walkers can feel the fear, we're fucked."

Daryl looked behind them, at the group, and as he looked back at her he was also smiling, trying to hide it, though. "Guess we're fucked anyway. They'd better start looking after themselves soon, or we gonna end up doin' all the work."

"It's ok, we trade protection for food and supplies." She smiled up at him again.

He smiled back, but before he could say anything else, something on the woods made him stop. A twig cracking and laves spreading out on the ground made him stop dead in his tracks, Sam following him suit, raising an arm to warn everybody else. There was silence for a long moment, and Daryl just kept still, eyes darting around the trees, Sam by his side waiting for some warning.

"What's going on?" Andrea's voice sounded loud among the threes, above the rustling of the wind on the leaves and the birds chirping.

Sam turned to her, scowling, and whispered firmly "What did we say about silence?"

"Good job, blondie, they heard you." Daryl said and pointed further to the woods.

Sam looked at the same direction and saw two walkers stumbling over their legs to approach the group. She raised her arm again, gesturing _two_ with her fingers, and unsheathed her knife.

"You guys don't move." Sam told them without taking her eyes off the couple of rotting corpses approaching.

She and Daryl moved towards the walkers, he with his crossbow raised and aimed. When they were a few yards away, Daryl shot a bolt into one of their eye sockets, and the body fell instantly to the floor. Not stopping, Sam quickened her pace towards the other and shoved her knife sideways into the temple. It was over before people around could even think.

"Hey, their friend came to join the party!" Merle said happily from behind the group and everybody turned towards him. Another walker was approaching the group from behind. Merle already had his red axe in hand, but unlike Sam, he didn't walk over to meet with the corpse. He let it approach him, the moans getting hungrier with the proximity.

"Yeah, come and get me, mooch!"

The axe was swung from behind him into the thing's skull, nearly parting it in half with Merle's muscular force. Sounds of disgust and even some cheering erupted from the group. Andrea and Lori seemed a little grey from where Sam was standing. Even though she laughed at Merle's theatricals, her own stomach turned slightly, suddenly remembering the can of pork brains. She swallowed and breathed slowly, willing it to pass.

"That's how is done!" Merle cheered holding up the axe covered in rotting brain matter.

"Now ya wonder if you should've watched more gore movies growing up, huh?" Sam asked the others, laughing to cover up her nausea.

"Awesome!" Morales cheered.

The three walkers turned out to be the only ones they found on the immediate area of the woods by the camp. Daryl did see quite a lot of squirrels, thought, a good promise for a hunt later on. After a long walk around the perimeter, the group went down the path to the quarry. A single male walker stood in the middle of the road, very still, as if dormant. It turned its head towards the sound of the group's steps and moaned before turning its whole body and talking unsteady but quite fast steps towards them.

"Who wants to get this one?" Sam asked to the group.

"I'll go." Shane said walking past her as he unsheathed his hunting knife, his eyes on the walker who focused its attention on him.

"The faster the better." Sam reminded from somewhere behind him when Shane hesitated for a moment to decide whether to go for it or wait for it to come to him, her words making him decide to go. He raised his knife and attacked as he walked in fast steps, the lack of focus on aiming right making his miss the walker's skull. It got him unbalanced and, in less than a second, the corpse was on to him, hands gripping his shoulders and pulling him closer.

"Hold the neck!" Daryl shouted from their side. "Keep it away!"

"Do something!" Lori's shriek panicking voice came from the group.

"The neck!" Daryl shouted again, but raised his crossbow taking aim instantly all the same.

Shane let his left hand go from where it had been holding the corpse's arm to grab the rotting neck, his fingers dipping into the flesh a little more than expected, and forced it away, gaining the control to lift his knifed hand and stuck it into the white, dead looking left eye. The corpse fell to the ground, silence coating the group except for all the labored breaths; especially Shane's. He turned on the spot, looking at the people, a quick glance and a nod to Daryl. His eyes were a little more open than usual.

"It's harder than it looks," he told the group. "Be careful."

A low laugh issued from the middle of the group, clearly audible among the otherwise quiet people. All eyes turned to him, Ed looking down, still smiling and shaking his head slightly.

"Again, Ed, got somethin' to say?" Shane asked him, crossing his arms, tongue coming out to lick at his dry lips.

"Nah." the man said. "I'm good."

Shane took an angry step towards him, but was retained when Sam spoke up. "Hey, I got an idea!" She was smiling. "Why don't you take the next one? You should lead the group, go ahead, walk in front of us and take the next walker that shows up."

Ed carried a sarcastic, annoying smile on his face when he walked towards her. "Don't think you're giving me orders, pixie. Ain't 'bout to get orders from a puss"

Daryl took a step towards him; breathe hitching in anger, but Sam reached out and held his wrist. She said nothing, only shook her head slightly when he looked at her, the angry in his eyes not directed at her.

"Well, you are, apparently." Ed laughed as he looked up and down Daryl before walking down the path, the rest of the group moving unsurely the same way.

"Not worth it." Sam whispered, her hand still on Daryl's wrist, but not holding him in place anymore. "He's gonna get his, ya know that."

"Yeah he gonna." Daryl said looking down at her. "Might as well get it from me."

She smiled, "Thanks, but I saw him first." and squeezed his wrist a little before letting go. "He's mine!"

"Told ya, honeybun," Merle said as he reached them both, no stopping walking. "Got an eye on him."

They all walked after Ed down the path, the bottom of the quarry slowly approaching. After a couple of minutes in silence, Ed stopped dead in his tracks, starring down at two walkers. Them both had already seen him and the group and were walking unsteadily towards them.

"They ya go, big guy." Daryl said as he approached Ed, while the rest of the group stood behind. He took aim with the crossbow. "One of 'em is all yours." He completed before pulling the trigger and eliminating one with a well placed arrow.

Ed looked behind him for a moment, directly at Sam, and smiled. She raised an eyebrow and nodded towards the walker, encouraging him to show what he could do. He turned again, the walker much closer now, and lunged for it, an old and rusty machete in hand, clumsiness all over. He tried the head but the machete went straight down into its shoulder, getting stuck there as the walker growled even angrier and kept coming. Ed forced the blade up and out of the rotting flesh and tried again, gasping in the effort. He got the head this time, but not strongly enough. It broke the skin and blood flew all over, but didn't even break the skull. He felt the blood covering his face and tried a step back gasping and breathing hard, only to have the sole of his tennis shoe slip on the loose earth of the path. He fell on his ass, barely having time to think and the walker was on him, hands pinning him down by the shoulders, blood and drool oozing down on him.

"No! Fuck! Help me!"

Merle's laugh could be heard over all the noise right before the other people on the group insisted that someone did something. Daryl even raised the crossbow, but Sam was close and simply stuck the knife in the back of the walker's skull. It stopped moving and fell on top of Ed just as she removed the blade.

"Shit! Help, help me!" Ed still shouted.

"Shut up, it's dead already!" Sam growled at him and Ed pushed the corpse away. The group passed, some shaking their heads, but most of them looking completely terrified.

Most of the people had the chance to kill their first walker that afternoon. T-Dog was the next after Ed, who looked very red in the face when the men did it quickly by shoving a knife into a walker's eye. A little more confident, Morales did the same and laughed after, celebrating. Lori and Andrea, even though they looked very green even before it, were also able to do it quite well. Other people had more difficulties, like Dale, Jim and Jackie, but their specific walker fell finally dead to the ground after a little struggle.

Merle lit a cigarette and passed one to Daryl as they stood together in silence, looking around. Sam approached them after a minute, also quiet, and Daryl passed his own to her. She shook her head, refusing it.

"So what you think?" she asked them, ignored the confused look Daryl shot her.

"Good for now." Daryl answered; brows still frowned down at her.

"Far enough from city to keep big crowds away for now," Merle said looking up towards the camp. "But nothin' to stop 'em from reaching it."

"Yeah, that's what I worry about." Sam looked up the same way. "Gotta have lookouts all the time."

"Got enough people for that. They can learn, you saw it." and looking back somewhere behind them, Daryl snorted. "Except for Ed. He'll get killed real soon."

"If he don't take any of us with him, is good riddance".

They went quiet again for a moment until Shane came to them, the group already starting to walk slowly up the path back to camp.

"So, uh, that last one was standing in the water when Jackie got him… So I'm thinking we don't use any of this water without a good boil before."

"Yeah you're right", Sam agreed and started to walk, the three men following her. "We're still not sure how we get this thing. If a walker doesn't kill me, I ain't going down 'cause of tainted water."

* * *

Her tent was still flat on the ground as most of the others' were up, people putting their personal things inside, making a livable place. She yawned. In the last few minutes Sam felt like her energy was completely drained, now that things were somewhat calmer. She blinked heavily looking down at the tent's bright orange fabric and at the folded poles in her hand. Crouching down on her heels, she tried to insert the pole in the right place, or at least what she thought was the right place.

"You never camped before, did ya, poppet?"

Sam looked up from her position o see Merle approaching. "Nah. I got no idea what I'm doing." she confessed.

"First of all, ya trying to put the wrong pole in the wrong hole."

"Shit…" she mumbled and let the pole and fabric fall to the ground. "Fuck it, I'll just set up that hammock… It's still warm anyway."

She got up and groaned at the pain the position brought to her legs, and looked around, rolling her neck to feel a satisfying, loud pop. Merle took her place by the tent saying nothing else, only mumbling "women", under his breath.

"Hey, Andrea! Amy!" Sam called aloud over the tents, looking to the back of the clearing, and continued once the two sisters looked at her. "That's too far away. Tents should be closer together, it's safer this way."

"But we're still in the clearing!" Andrea contested.

"Barely, you're almost under the trees. It'd be better if you moved a little more to the middle, ok?"

Andrea and Amy shared a look that Sam felt too tired to analyze, but Amy nodded and they started moving their things closer. Sam yawned again and turned around to Merle. Her tent was up, Merle adjusting the last of it. She noticed it was small, probably the smallest tent on camp.

"You got magical fuckin' powers or something?" she asked him, impressed, as he got up.

"Just been camping too many times to count." he told her. "Ya just need the sleeping bag and ya set."

"That's great…" she smiled but another yawn interrupted it.

He laughed at her, "Fuck, woman, just go to sleep!"

"No, got things to do…"

"Hey, by the way, when did ya become the freakin' little boss 'round here? I see ya telling people what to do and not to do all day, and bossin' up Mr. Sniffers over there. The hell's that all about?"

"Shit, I got no idea, it's not like I planned to do that." Sam said while she zipped her tent open and peaked inside. "I'm just saying what I think, like I always did."

"Yeah, well, careful with that. Ya don't wanna be responsible for all those shitheads. Wouldn't wanna be in your shoes if they start seein' you as the leader."

"I don't even think they, or we, I don't know, actually _need_ a leader. Why can't everybody just do shit and survive together?"

"Every pack needs a leader, sweetheart. And every male in the pack wants to be the alpha."

"I ain't no male! Where does that put me?"

He laughed, "You procreate with the alpha!"

Sam also laughed aloud, "Shit, please kill me first!"

"I'll do it quick and painless."

"Thanks, that's sweet." she said in a flat voice and he laughed before going on.

"Or I'll just fight Mr. Sniffs-a-lot for the alpha position and ya'd have to procreate with me!"

"Aaaand now you're an asshole again."

"Why did ya think I quit bein'?" he laughed more and turned around to walk away. "Good hangin' with ya, but I gotta take a piss."

"Thanks for the tent!"

Minutes later, sleeping bag inside the tent along with her backpack, Sam returned to the empty area in the middle of the camp. She saw that Dale's RV was already parked where she had said it should be, a folding camping table set up and Carol around it, a few bags on the floor. Sam could see the bags were filled with food supplies from the others and that Carol was organizing them; she noticed Daryl's bag was among them. On the hood of one of the cars parked at the entrance of the camp, Shane, Glenn, T-Dog and Daryl were going through the weapons they had – not all, seeing that Sam still had her gun holster with two pistols hanging from her shoulders and a knife tucked into the sheath. Dale was on top of the RV, binoculars aiming down the road and quarry. Ed, Morales and Jim were setting up twigs and dry leaves in the exact middle of the clearing, preparing to start a fire. Lori had Carl helping her carry a few pans and kettles towards were he fire would be. Sam smiled looking around, understanding how everybody had got occupied with something, working together. _That might work_ , she thought. Occupying herself as well, she grabbed two big buckets she found where Lori had taken the pans and walked alone down the quarry. She returned with them filled with water a few minutes later.

"Oh, I was just going to do that!" Lori said when Sam placed them by the fire, which was already starting to burn.

She rolled her shoulders; the buckets had been really heavy, "Yeah, it's alright. We gonna need it to cook whatever it is we can invent from those cans." she said nodding to where Carol as still fussing over the cans, noticing she had separated a few to the side. "And to drink as well, gotta boil it all."

"We still have bottles of mineral water for now; do you think we should save them?"

"I guess, yeah. Maybe do what Carol did with the cans, put together all we have and save it all. If we ever got to leave here we have water to carry."

Lori looked worried, "Why would we need to leave? I mean, other than when all of this is over?"

Sam looked a Lori for a long moment before realizing she probably had to give her an answer. She found incredible that the other woman seemed to think everything was fine and things would just return back to what they were before. She considered telling all she thought about it to Lori, but she felt so tired, now even more after the water buckets, that she just smiled, lips tight together, before saying "We never know. What if we find a place that's even better than this?"

"I think this looks pretty god. The children like it. It's like an unexpected vacation for them. Carl always wanted to go camping but Rick and I –" Lori paused and swallowed hard, looking down at her feet. "We never had the time."

Sam looked around, looking for something to say. She had never been too good in comforting someone with words. She cleared her throat after a moment. "All it matters is that Carl is safe and even happy. Look at that," she pointed to the tree line where Carl, Sophia, Elisa and Louis were playing together, running around and laughing. "We just gonna try to keep it that way."

Lori smiled at her, still with sad eyes. "Yes, you're right. Thank you…"

"It's nothing."

Lori took a deep breath and shook her head a little, as if to shake away the sad thought from her mind, and changed the subject. "Hey, that small orange tent is yours, right?"

"Yeah?"

"You left the zipper open so I went to close it, you don't want bugs making their way in here, and well, I saw you only have a sleeping bag?"

"Yeah", she said again. "It's not even mine; Merle got it somewhere before we left Savannah. Why?"

"We have an extra folding bed." Lori told her pointing over her shoulder to the general direction of the tents. "If you want it, at least you won't be sleeping on the ground."

"You got an _extra folding bed_?" Sam laughed. "I find it amazing that someone would've even _one_ folding bed in the middle of the freakin' walking dead apocalypse, and you got an _extra_? How did you guys think about that?"

"Well, I thought about it when Shane said we might need to camp for a night or two before reaching the shelter. And you know, I have a kid, mothers develop a strange talent of thinking about every detail. Shane had them in his house; he likes camping."

"Alright. So I means you, Carl and Shane already have a bed?"

"Yeah, if you want one…"

"Hell yeah!"

They returned to the tents again and Lori gave Sam the folded aluminum bed. Lori left Sam to rearrange her things inside the small habitation. It felt even more crowded now with the bed, but Sam was satisfied with it. She didn't intend to stay in there for long periods anyway. As she was leaving, Sophia, Carol's eleven year old daughter, was passing by running after the other kids. The girl stopped when she saw her.

"Hi!" she said timidly and smiling.

"Hey, what's up?"

"I like your hair." the girl still smiled.

"Yeah? You know, you can have that one day if you want." Sam said and threw all the loose dreads to one side, over her shoulder.

"Can I touch it?"

Smiling proud of her locks, Sam leaned down, "Of course!"

Sophia took one of the dreads in her hand, rolling it between her fingers. "Cool", she said after a moment.

"Look, this one had a ring on it." Sam said looking for one specific dread with the ornament.

Sophia took the ring in her hand, looking at the carvings, "You put rings on your hair?"

"And in my nose".

Sophia seemed to find everything about Sam interesting. Her hair, pierced nose, her tattoos – Sam explained to her what a Phoenix meant, she had never heard about them before – and even her gun holster. Sam still felt tired, but the energy and curiosity of the girl, still so optimistic before the facts, seemed to give her a boost of energy. Sam was now explaining what was the sport she did not only to Sophia, but for the other three children too. They got excited when she said what she knew how to do, jumping up and down around her, asked her to show them.

Sam forced herself not to yawn as she walked with them back to the clearing. The sky was only now starting to darken, the night approaching, the fire in the middle, one metal bucket of water heating up over it. She looked around, looking for something she could do. The possibilities were infinite, so she opted for leaving the children behind as she sped up in run towards the RV. In speed, she climbed on her side of it, pulling herself up on top of it in less than a second – it was not as high as she had thought. She heard the four children cheer and run closer to the car. She smiled to Dale, who had gotten up from his folding chair, scared by her sudden appearance.

"Sorry!" she told him before turning to the kids again, standing in the very edge of the RV. She opened her arms to her sides and stood like this for a moment before jumping down again with a front flip. She was surrounded by children as her feet hit the floor, their cheering calling the attention of the whole camp.

Her cheeks went bright red and her smile was the biggest Daryl had ever seen. After going through the weapons and distributing them evenly between the people who had been willing to take watch duties, he had been looking for Sam to give her a rifle when he saw her run from the edge of the clearing to climb incredibly fast over the RV and then jump down flipping over herself and fall steadily on her feet. Daryl felt rooted to the ground; glad he was still among a few trees and out of sight. He had seen her smile like that before.

 _Once_.

He was sixteen as had been living in that neighborhood for nearly three, after the Dixon's former house had been burned to ashes with his mother inside. By that time he still went to school, but only barely, and he remembered clearly the day he was coming home from one of the few days when he actually showed up there. There was a moving truck in front of the house next door, which had been empty for the better part of a year now. He saw a man, grey hair and beard reaching his chest and a woman who Daryl didn't think to be five years older than himself. He was on the porch steps when he looked at them again, kind of curious but not so much, when he saw Sam for the first time. A girl who looked almost his age, perhaps younger carrying a box from the truck to the house; blonde hair so clear it was almost silver, green eyes that he could see from that distance. She looked like she hated every second of that day. Cuteness of a young girl in her high pony tail and baby blue dress contrasted with her frown and some hardness in her eyes that Daryl thought he recognized from somewhere.

Later that day he had to hear the rudest comments his father made about the new neighbors and it irritated him more than he could understand. It was probably because every single word his father said irritated him to no end. The next morning he emptied his school bag and filled it with some junk food and water and left with it in his back and a BB Gun in hand. He spent almost a week out, like he usually did from time to time. Nobody went looking for him, they never did. Merle was away again and his father simply didn't care, so he only went back home after six days when his food was over and he couldn't get any more squirrel for a whole day. He returned the house from the backyard. There were no fences there separating the houses, he area behind his and the neighbor's house filled with old trees, abandoned car parts and boxes that had been used when the new people moved in. First thing he saw, though, was Sam. She was facing the woods, a leg bended and resting behind her on the tree; grey sweat pants and white tank top, battered sneakers of her feet. She lit up a cigarette and pulled before looking back to her house, it seemed she was checking if she was really alone. He left the woods just as she looked in his direction again, and she jumped.

"Holy shit!" she cried, a hand on her chest. "Fuck, thought you was my dad!"

And with that, the laughed and said "phew!", but soon stopped and pulled on her cigarette again. Daryl had stopped moving, rooted on his spot, staring at her. He didn't smile or laugh with her, he was too shocked to do anything. There she was, the pretty, delicate girl he had seen days ago, smoking and swearing like he boys he knew, and _speaking_ to him. His throat felt like it was closed, no words coming to mind to say to her.

"You live here?" she asked him, and her voice really was delicate. "Never seen you."

He nodded, maybe a little too fast to look natural, and didn't say anything. He knew he'd make a fool of himself if he said words, or if he stayed there. She smiled even more at him, perfect teeth, smile reaching her green eyes, and Daryl felt a pang in his chest knowing his simple nod for an answer had made such a pretty girl smile like that. He suddenly felt completely out of place, having not showered for a week.

"You smoke?" she spoke again, and Daryl felt he'd look more like an idiot every second he spent without saying anything. He nodded again, lying. He had never smoked before, even if he'd had thousands of opportunities to do so. He didn't want to look like a wuss for not having smoked at sixteen when a girl who looked like fourteen was pulling on her cigarette like she'd been doing that forever. At his answer, he girl fished into her sweatpants pocket for her pack and reached out to give it to him. "I'm Sam, by the way. What's your name?"

 _Shit_ , there was no way he'd escape from speaking now. He'd sound like a fool, the idiot he really was, he knew it. He'd have to choose between making the girl – _Sam_ – think he was a fool or that the as an asshole. He chose the least.

"None of ya business. Fuck off." he said darkly and moved towards his house, ignoring the pack of cigarettes she still held for him.

Now, rooted in an entirely different spot, looking at the same girl with the same bright smile, he wondered – like he had done millions of times since that afternoon eighteen years ago – why he had said that and how things would have been if he had simply talked to her like a normal person.

He'd probably have had more opportunities to see that smile.

"Fucking shit, is that a pool of drool where ya standing?" Daryl heard Merle approach him and laugh, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Ya gonna drown, little brother!"

"The fuck you talkin' about?" he asked, hoping to cover up.

"Talkin' 'bout shortie dread princess over there, don't try to sound more like an idiot that ya already do." Merle stood by him, towering, all signs of laugh gone. "Look all ya want, little brother, drool all ya want, 'cause that's all ya gonna have from that fine piece o'ass. Girl like that ain't never gonna look at ya."

"You just say that 'cause _you_ ain't never had a fine one look at you."

"Fuck, Darlina, ya got no idea. If she by miracle even look at ya, don't matter. I don't want ya anywhere near Sam, ya hear me?"

"I ain't even trying, not goin' for it." Daryl said starring up at his brother, but taking a step back, his towering over him getting on his nerves. "But if I was? What the fuck you got to do with that?"

"Lookin' after the girl. Ya'd be no good for her. Shit, ya'd be no good for any girl, is just how us Dixon boys are."

"Never kept you away from any of 'em. What's it 'bout Sam?"

"None of your business, little brother, just mark my words. Stay the fuck away from her."

Sam didn't see or hear them, she was still surrounded by the camp's four children, their excitement clear in their raised voices and skipping around, asking for her to do more so they'd see, asking her how she'd learned that, if she could teach them, how many flips she could do at once. Although Sam had never had much contact with children in her life, she liked them; found their excitement before life refreshing, especially now with the world ending. She wanted to show them more, to play around with them, she really did, but her stomach seemed to find her running a flipping over completely abusive. It was turning again; bile rising to her throat, her head spinning a little.

Still smiling, she told the children they'd have to ask their parents if she could teach them, and that they'd talk again tomorrow. It hurt a little to see their disappointed faces as she walked away from them – nearly running – back towards the tent area. She passed right through it, towards the woods, now really running, a hand covering her mouth, until she found herself far away enough from anyone to get her relief. After emptying her already empty stomach even further, she fell on her butt on the wood's ground, tears falling freely from her eyes, catching her breath. She felt tired to the bones and only wished to lie down right there and take a nap. She was shaking, stomach still turning, tears now falling for some other reason.

She knew she was screwed. If those symptoms really meant what she thought they meant, she was even more fucked than she'd be back in the normal life. And, who was she kidding? She knew damn well what the symptoms meant. She was never one to get sick and feel this bad for nothing. Before she would have the help of the guy she had slept with – or she imagined she would, she didn't really know him that well to know it – and she could make the choice to keep it or not, and if she didn't want to keep it, she'd find a safe place to go and solve her problem. But now she wondered what her options were, but just as she started to think better into it, her body gave up on thinking and on sitting up and she felt herself falling backwards slowly to the ground, vision growing dark, thoughts failing her mind. All she was able to think was that she shouldn't let herself fall asleep right there, it wasn't safe, a walker could find her and eat her and nobody would even know about it.

At least it would solve her tiny little problem.

So she forced herself up, ever so slowly, holding up to the tree and walked back to the camp, tree by three, glad nobody was around. Her orange tent seemed too damn far away and the minutes it took her to reach it and zip herself in felt like a week. There were no more thoughts as she fell over the folding bed, finally permitting darkness to engulf her exhausted body and mind.


	9. Day 20

The sky had only just started to pale in the horizon when Sam left her tent. She had been asleep for many hours now, nearly passed out. She'd been feeling sick all those days, especially when night came – she guessed she had night sickness rather than morning sickness – and after throwing up alone in the woods, far from the camp, she'd stumble back to her tent and pass out until the next morning. Last night hadn't been different. As she left the group that had been reunited around a small fire, not explaining to anyone what she'd do, she walked by Daryl, who was on watch duty just by the edge of the clearing. She gave him a small smile, which he didn't give back. He knew something was wrong, and Sam was sure that if he weren't on his post for a few more hours, he'd have gone after her. She was glad he didn't. She didn't want anyone thinking about what was happening to her; she wasn't ready to tell anybody, to make it real, to admit it to herself. And maybe even more than that, she didn't want to tell Daryl.

He and Merle were the only people she knew from the old life; the only people who had met her before, seen her young and growing up, who had some kind of history with her, even if a lame one. She didn't worry about Merle knowing, because even though they could even be called friends now, she still didn't forget the part he had always had in her life. When he was present there, next door, he meant trouble. He meant offensive words when she didn't deserve them – when nobody deserved them – so Sam actually didn't actually give any importance to what Merle thought of her. She knew she could deal with him, she had learned how to talk to him in those twenty days of acquaintance-friendship.

But Daryl – Daryl was different, and she didn't even know how. He'd never spoken offensive words at her – only eighteen years ago when his teenager version told her to fuck off, but that had been it – and he had always been a presence in her life, in the background, the boy from the other house, the one who'd disappear and resurge again on and on, a constant variable.

Daryl was Sam's only constant.

After the dead got up to eat the living, this frail and nearly inexistent relationship had shifted. He was there, and she wouldn't know how to explain it if she had to, but she knew he was _there_ , in the most ample meaning of the word. In those little more than two weeks, Daryl was the one who'd talk quietly to her, look at her to confirm decisions, tell her things with his eyes when he didn't talk much with words. He was comfortable and, dare she admit, he felt safe. So she didn't want to tell him yet, just not yet, but she knew that when she was ready to tell anyone, it'd have to be him, even fearing he would judge her, look down at her, or worse: pamper her. She didn't know him well enough to foresee which one it would be, but she dreaded any option. So she just kept throwing up out of sight in the woods, sleeping early only because she'd worked a lot all day, pretending nothing was happening.

The camp was quiet as she left the tent area to reach the clearing. Dale was on top of the RV, T-Dog walking around the edge of the clearing – he nodded at her with a little smile for a good-morning – Ed was ahead of the cars on the edge of the road, and Merle on the other side of the clearing, opposite T-Dog. Sam knew Jim was down on the quarry keeping watch there. This shift of watch was nearly over and the five men would be replaced and would have to eat something before going to sleep. Carol and Miranda were up and about, preparing food for breakfast – Sam had previously set shifts for that too, where the two were together for the first meal, Lori and Amy for lunch and herself and Morales for dinner. He was the only man on these shifts because no other could cook in a satisfactory way.

In a way, slowly and discreetly, Sam had organized small jobs for everyone in camp. The cooking shifts, a person responsible for never letting the boiled water to run out – Jim – four to keep picking the best twigs and dry leaves they could find so the fire would never die out – the children – and even laundry duties. She had tried to make it fifty-fifty, men and women, but her feminist way of thinking hadn't been much appreciated. The men had turned their noses at the idea, and the women had decided they'd only stand in their way and do it all wrong and they'd have to do it all over again anyway. Defeated, Sam also excused herself from this duty. She'd never done laundry by hand in her life. Everybody else who could shoot or use a knife and felt safe facing walkers were on watch duties, which meant almost all of them, but this had been Shane's responsibility. He organized the weapons, the shifts, the points were each one would be, all the strategy around it. Sam was glad because this invisible line she and Shane had drawn made things more peaceful and them knocking heads less every day.

"Morning," she said quietly, approaching Merle.

"Hey, what's up, baby face?" he smiled at her as he threw away the butt of the cigarette he had been smoking.

"All quiet here?"

"Yeah, heard twigs all over the night but was a raccoon or something like it. Gonna get it later."

"Right, you guys gonna go huntin' today?"

"Yeah, bring some protein for these people."

"Not gonna rest a little before leaving?"

"Yeah, couple of hours."

"'Kay." she nodded. "Hey, go on, I'll take the watch now."

"Ya gonna? Thought it was china-boy."

"Glenn'll take Dale's spot."

Merle passed her the rifle he'd been holding for the past three hours and left, crossing paths with his brother on his way. They just nodded at each other and Daryl approached Sam, an old metal bowl in hand. She looked at him just as he handed it to her.

"Mornin'." he said.

"Morning… Yeah, I don't think I'm gonna eat." she said refusing to take the bowl.

"Ya gotta," he insisted. "Know you got sick last night. Canned meat balls didn't agree with ya?"

"Uh, you saw that…" she moaned out instead of an answer.

"Not the first time. You ok?"

"Yeah, no, not sure…" she mumbled and looked down, kicking the hard ground with the tip of her boot. "Didn't know my stomach would bitch so much about all this fuckin' change in eating habits."

"Gotta get used to it, don't see it turnin' back to normal anytime soon," and with that he tried to hand her the bowl again. She took it this time, reluctantly, still not looking at him. "Ya sure that's what the problem is?"

She looked up then to find his eyes glued on hers, searching for something. He had asked that in a low voice, stepping a little bit closer, head a little lowered to get almost in level with hers. Sam felt her mouth go suddenly dry – or at least drier than it was before – and swallowed, looking down at the bow, escaping his gaze.

"Yeah. What else would it be?"

"You tell me."

He didn't move or say anything else. Daryl just stood there, waiting for her to say something, and she almost did. She felt like she wanted to tell him now, just say it and get it over with, but her throat seemed to be reminding her of the reasons why she didn't want to voice it. She couldn't admit it, not yet.

"I'm fine, Daryl." she finally said and mustered courage to look up at him. "Really."

For a moment he didn't move, still fixing her a deep gaze, and finally nodded, really slowly, and straightened up. "Alright," he said tightly before turning around and walking without looking at Sam again, but saying "Eat. Ya sure as hell need it."

She stood there looking at his retreating form for a long moment. Was it possible that he knew it? Was she not being discreet enough with her nightly episodes? She shook her head, looking down at the bowl – warmed up but already cooling brown beans and sweet corn stared back at her. No, he didn't know. He didn't even know her; there was no way he had observed her that well. She looked up again, trying to see him one more time as if this would give her an answer, but didn't find him. She ate half of the food, only because she knew she needed it, but her stomach refused to eat more than that. She stood there on guard for nearly three hours as the rest of the people on camp started their days, until Jackie came to release her.

In the tent area, she found Merle waking up from the nap he had taken after his watch and breakfast, and Daryl handing him his share of guns.

"Any special request from the woods, pumpkin?" Merle said when he saw her approach.

"I would like veal, if you please."

Behind him, Daryl snorted. "Did ya just do a British accent?"

"Shit, did I?" she asked smiling and wrinkling her nose at him.

Sam stayed with them until they had all they needed in backpacks to stay in the woods for a few days to hunt, and were ready to go.

"Hey, you realize it's the first time in twenty days that I'll be away from you guys?" Sam asked out of the blue before she could think of it, after being quiet for a moment when she just watched the Dixons organize their things and talk about the supplies they would need. As she said it, Sam felt her cheeks get a little pink. If she had stopped to think for just a moment, that was not something she would ever voice.

"Ya countin' days?" Merle laughed at her.

"Yeah, this is day twenty of the new fuckin' world." and she waved her hand, "Guess I'll just stop doing it eventually."

"Ya gonna miss us aren't ya?" Merle said as he started to retreat. "Jus' don't fall in love, honey pie!"

She laughed and, when he looked back, flipped the bird at him, making him laugh more and send her one himself. Daryl was shaking his head at their interaction, not moving. Smiling, Sam looked at him and forced herself not to go all serious and keep smiling, but unconsciously her arms crossed over her stomach.

"I'll see if I find your veal." Daryl said quietly, a shy little smile playing on his lips, making the little pink in Sam's cheek grow a little warmer. She smiled more.

"Be careful out there, is all I ask." she said and saw him frown slightly, he seemed surprised. "Ya know, there walkers in the woods…"

"I got it." he answered firmly.

"I know," and she took a step closing most of the space between them, arms falling to her sides and a hand reaching out for his. She took a light hold of his wrist and saw him look down at her hand and back up at her quickly. "Just… Don't die. Ok?"

He didn't answer, instead started to bite on the skin of his lower lip – Sam had seen him do that before, when something bothered him, or when he was thoughtful – and after a moment he nodded slowly. "I won't." he promised quietly.

"Good." Sam answered in a whisper, only then letting go of his wrist. Daryl took a step back, eyes still on her, and then turned around to walk away, quick steps, towards where Merle had disappeared into the woods.

"Ok, now, after taking these calming, deep breaths, you just have to relax and empty your mind." Andrea tried saying in a quiet, calm voice while Sam sat by her side, Amy and Lori also around. She opened one eye then, looking at the others. "Or at least it's what the instructor said. I was never able to do it."

"Oh, that's bullshit." Sam uncrossed her legs and leaned back, resting on her hands over the rock they were sitting on, by the lake. "How can a person just think of nothing?"

"I did it once," Amy said, also moving from her meditation position and standing up. "I spent nearly five minutes thinking of nothing, just relaxing, until I noticed I had been thinking about my breath and how long had it been and about my itching nose all the while."

"I did yoga before Carl was born." Lori told them. "But never really went into meditation. I don't think it would be useful now, you know, these days."

"Yeah, I really don't wanna be sitting on the woods with my eyes closed and mind faraway when a walker comes over. These eyes are staying wide open." Sam pointed briefly at her own green eyes.

"Oh, by the way," Amy called. "I've hear you calling them _walkers_ this whole time. How did this name come about?"

Sam rolled her neck from side to side, listening to its pop before starting to explain. She told the other three women about how she had been hiding in the Dixon's house for a while when they saw a neighbor of said name wander around the street, dead, and after that started calling all of them _walkers_.

"Wow… It's kinda weird imagining being stuck in a house with those two for as long as you did." Andrea opined.

"Why's that?" Sam asked with a frown.

"I don't know. Nothing against them, it's just… They are a little…" the blonde woman thought for a moment before finishing. "Strange."

"Strange?" Sam asked for confirmation. "What's strange about them?"

"Well –"

"It's nothing personal," Amy cut her older sister off. "It's just that they don't really talk to anybody else here. Just you."

"Yes, they're always on the edges of the group, you know?" Andrea kept talking. "I mean, Daryl barely speaks to anyone, and Merle, when he does, it's to be… Well, snarky."

"Snarky?" Sam asked permitting her frown to fade away and give place to an amused smile. "You mean ' _asshole_ ', right?"

"Well, you said it." Lori commented.

"They ain't that bad." Sam started. "They're rednecks, ya know, they got their own ways. Merle really is an asshole, and a racist… And misogynist. And a drug addict."

"Wow, is there something good about him?" Andrea laughed, but sounded worried at the same time.

"Yes. He's loyal. He's been looking after me since the first day, and even though he's always been a jerk to me all the years I've known him, he never crossed a line. Never touched me. I didn't in the beginning, but I feel safe around him now." Sam paused, impressed by her own words and how honest they had been.

"Alright. What about Daryl?" Amy asked seeming more interested her body turning a little more towards Sam.

"Uh, well, you girls might not believe it, but Daryl is actually really kind," she said smiling. "He's got this hardened exterior, he's always had, but he seems to be a good guy. I guess he is, you know."

"You guess?" Lori asked. "Did you say you know them for a long time, how many years again?"

"Eighteen. I've been their neighbor for this long, but we've never been friends. Never talked before that day, actually. We just ended up together by chance."

"Oh. Oh, so you mean… You and Daryl, you're not together?" Andrea seemed to find this idea strange.

"Together? You mean, together _together_?" Sam asked and at Andrea's confirmation and Amy's emphatic not, she continued. "No! We're barely friends… I mean, I guess we are _now_ , but it's been less than a month."

"But do you like him?" Amy questioned yet again.

"Like this? No… I care about him, of course, but not in that way."

Andrea and Amy shared a look that didn't pass unnoticed by Sam, both of them going quiet.

"What?" Sam asked. "What is it?"

"Nothing." Amy answered a little too fast.

"Amy has a crush on him." Andrea told them.

"Andrea!"

"You have a crush on Daryl?" Lori asked seemingly holding in a laugh.

"It's no big deal! I just… I think he's cute."

"Cute? Really?" Lori meddled in again. "Daryl, cute?"

"Alright, I mean _hot_!" Amy confessed, her cheeks going pink, hands moving up to cover her face.

"Well, that's more like it." Andrea agreed. "See, the guy's single, isn't that what you wanted to know?"

"It doesn't matter, ok?" Amy uncovered her face. "It's not like I'll do anything about it. A guy like that would never look at a girl like me."

"Well, you don't know that…" Sam said quietly. "He might. That is, I mean... How old are you again?"

"Twenty four."

"Oh. Alright, you look a lot younger... He's not that much older, I think about fifteen years."

"I told you, it doesn't matter, nothing is gonna happen!" Amy assured again. "I just think he's hot, that's all. Andrea thinks the same thing about Shane!"

"Amy!"

As the sun started to set on the horizon, coloring it beautifully with pink and orange shades, the fire that centered the clearing roared high, crackling the twigs and dry leaves the children had collected earlier. Carol was around it, setting cookers ready for Sam and Morales to start preparing the group's night meal. Silently and with her head down, she worked not paying people around any attention, not noticing the ones who were standing guard, or the children running around and giggling without a single worry in life, or the four women who approached the clearing carrying two buckets filled with water each. Carol only looked up at them when some of the men ran towards them to offer and take the heavy buckets from their hands. They gladly handed them out, happily being released from the weight; except for Sam.

"Now ya'll offer?" she asked and kept walking, leaving Shane with his hands extended trying to take the containers. "Don't touch the buckets, I got it!"

She carried it over to the fire, now along with the men, and placed them on the ground.

"Do you really have to do it by hand?" Carol asked her as the others moved away. "Can't you just take a car down there?"

"I don't wanna spend any more gas than we have to." Sam explained rolling her shoulder muscles to relieve the tension. "Cars should all be ready to go if we have to."

"Right. But next time at least get the men to do that. Those are pretty heavy." Carol struggled with the last sentence as she lifted one metal bucket to place it over the grill that had already been placed over the fire.

Sam didn't hear her last few words. Her eyes were trained on Carol's forearm, she long sleeved shirt the woman had been wearing unintentionally rolled over. There, over Carol's pale and delicate skin, four angry purple marks shaped perfectly as fingers.

"Carol?" Sam reached out instinctively and took Carol's hand on hers. "What's this?"

Carol looked down and immediately flinched, understanding what Sam had been looking at. She took her hand away from Sam and lowered her sleeve quickly, blue, watery eyes darting around checking if anyone else had seen in.

"It's nothing," she told Sam in an urgent whisper. "Really, I just hurt myself –"

"When did he do this?" she ignored her tentative excuse. "Gotta been last night, right? They're fresh."

"Sam, really, it's nothing. I was my fault."

"Yeah, and what did you do? Didn't iron his shirt right?" Sam also whispered, but anger was clear even then.

"No! Sam, just let it go, ok? I'm the one who annoyed him –"

"You _annoyed_ him?" Sam repeated, outraged. "He must have done it pretty quietly, huh? So no one else would hear it?"

"Sam, please, listen to me," Carol's whisper now sounded like a plea. "Just let it go. Please. I don't want a scene, I don't want to make things worse."

Sam took a moment to breath, her anger tightening her throat dangerously. She saw terror in Carol's eye, and new that acting on her own outrage would really only make things worse at the moment.

"This man is nothing without you, Carol." She announced instead of running to Ed's tent and assaulting him. "Not a fuckin' thing. He made you think that you need him, but you don't. He is the one who needs you. You'd be just fine without him. In the past, you could very well leave, find help, get a job. It wouldn't be easy, but nothing in life really is, right? And now, you need him even less. You have this whole group to look after you and Sofia. You don't need him." She took a hard breath and an angry laugh came out of her lips. "He, on the other hand… What would this useless fucker be without you, Carol? If you left him, he'd starve. He'd stink, live out of a can of beer and cup noodles, and he would never, _ever again_ , find another women who'd even look at him twice. He'd die alone and miserable while you rebuilt your life." Sam looked around and gestured around the camp, moving on to as astonished looking Carol. "And here? He's only here because of you and your girl. Nobody here likes him. Shane didn't want him to come. If it wasn't for you, he'd be out on the road, alone, eaten by walkers. He owes you _everything_ , Carol, now and then. He made you believe that you need him so you wouldn't leave, because he is a fucking useless piece of shit." Sam smiled despite Carol's wide eyes and opened mouth. "You have no idea of the power you got over him."

At the end of Sam's speech, Carol blinked and looked down, wordless. Sam took a step back, staring to move away, and Carol look at her again, still not saying anything.

"I can teach you self defense if you want. You and Sofia. You don't have to go thought it anymore, girl. Just say the word."

With that, the blonde dreadlocked woman turned around and walked away from Carol. She hoped, for Ed's sake, that he didn't cross her path anytime soon.


	10. Day 24

The thick patch of woods around camp was lit at noon, the high temperature and hot beams of sun among the tree leaves making the wild life seem to be hiding, seeking refuge. Glenn wiped off a drop of sweat that threatened to fall into his right eye with the back of his hand, his baseball cap all but forgotten at camp; it only made his head hotter. By his side, Sam considered, not for the first time, getting rid of the dreads. The thick rolls of hair glued to her sweaty arms. One of them got tangled in the shoulder gun holster she still wore since she had found it, and she had to stop, Glenn on her tracks, to remove it.

"Seems to be clear," he told her as she resumed walking. "We must be nearly out of the perimeter."

"Few more yards," Sam informed. "We use to check up until that big oak. I like to stand there for a while to see if the woods beyond are really clear."

"Right. But you know, with how fast they walk, they'd take like a day to reach the camp from this point."

"Some of them can be faster. I guess it depends on when –"

She stopped suddenly, a hand rising to stop Glenn from walking ahead of her. He had heard it too, though. Steps rustled the tree leaves ahead of them, stumbling shapes slowly becoming visible among the trees. Two females and one male walker growled hungrily looking at them.

"I think that one was at a party." Glenn whispered as he pointed at one of the females with his knife. She wore a black strapless dress; a fancy pearl necklace was still around her neck, now dyed in red; one of her feet was bare, the other had a high heel silver shoe still strapped to her ankle, making it ever harder for her to walk.

"That's why I never wore high heels," Sam told Glenn as she, too, unsheathed her knife and took the first step towards the three dead people.

"Whoa, that's a big guy," Glenn said impressed as he reached the male, his putrid fingers reaching out for him only to find the empty air as he took a step back and to the side. The size of the dead man made him luckily slower, making it surprisingly easy for Glenn to reach up and stab him into his ear hole.

As Sam approached the two females, one was quickly kicked on the chest and stumbled back, falling on her bottom and groaning desperately. It would have been funny if Sam wasn't too busy to give it any thought; she was fighting the dressed up walker who had taken hold of one of her blonde dreads and was pulling it with more force than her decaying body let show. Ignoring the pain on her scalp, Sam managed to reach for the walker head and bury the knife to the handle into her left eye. She almost fell with the walker but managed to remain standing and untangle her dread from its hand – one of the fingers threatened to get unattached from the hand – in time to look around and see that Glenn had his foot trapped under the body of walker he had just killed. It didn't look like he had been hurt, but he was indeed struggling to set himself free. The second female walker had stood up by now but didn't have time to even try to attack. Sam's knife, still coated with the other's brain matter, was shoved strongly into her temple.

"You alright?" she asked him as the walker fell heavily to the ground.

Glen stopped struggling, breathed out, head hanging a little in shame. "Yeah… He just… Fell on me."

"Shit, Glenn, gotta be careful with the dead weight." She said as she approached him and bent down to help him push the big walker away. "You're lucky you ain't alone."

"Yeah, I know," he mumbled as he rolled his foot, testing for any sign of pain. Satisfied it wasn't hurt, he got up while Sam cleaned her blade on the fancy black dress of the dead walker. He stared at the three of them for a moment in silence before asking "What do you reckon it is?"

"What?" Sam asked as she straightened up and turned to him sheathing the knife again.

"This… _Thing_. Decease, virus, whatever. Nobody seems to have any kind of explanation."

"We can only wonder… Don't seem natural to me, though."

"What do you mean?" he asked as they resumed walking.

"I don't know, I don't think nature would work like that. There's a reason why things die in nature, circle of life and all that. I don't see a reason for the dead to get back to life, I mean, happening naturally."

"You mean you think someone did this? Like in a lab?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Like terrorists?"

"Who knows? But well, if terrorists did this, they probably regret it by now. I mean, if this is really worldwide."

"Must be. If it wasn't, we'd be getting help from other countries already." He paused. "Right?" and looked at Sam. She answered him only by returning his skeptical look, an eyebrow raised.  
"Well, so if it is man-made and if it is in the whole world… Who'd find the cure? If there's any, I mean."

"Who'd find it if the ones who should be looking for it are possibly eating each other as we speak? And not in a good way."

"It's hard to imagine that everything is really over." Glenn spoke gloomily. "Life as we knew, I mean."

"Is it really?" she asked him just as they reached the oak tree and stopped walking. "Things were going to shit for a long time, Glenn. Violence, racism, wars, hunger. Of course there were still good things but… Maybe it was just so bad that there was no returning point, and we, simple people, didn't even know how terrible things were. This thing that is happening sucks, it's a fucking apocalypse, no good in that, but ya know… Many of the bad things might be over too."

Glenn nodded his head, arms crossed. "Like pollution, pesticides, poisoned water, global warming."

"Yeah, there won't be enough people to ruin the planet anymore. But what I mean is… We know nothing, right? Miserable little human beings who don't understand the reason for anything in life. And we probably won't know. There ain't much we can do other than move on, keep living, keep fighting. Is what animals have been doing in nature since the beginning, we'll just keep doing it."

"Keep fighting," Glenn repeated. "Build a life in this new world?"

"What other choice we got? Give up? Lie down and cry? If we didn't give up when facing the other problems we've all had in life, why would we now? I've been though shit, Glenn. I don't know your story, but I know nobody's life is easy. We all are just gonna have to suck it up and move the fuck on."

Glenn had gone silent for long minutes before speaking again. Sam let him think, his face showed how surprised he had been to hear her thoughts. It might have been hard to digest, but Sam knew she was right. She had been scared in the beginning, on the first days and on dangerous situations, but the most she thought, the hardest it was for her to find something about the old world that she would miss. What in her past routine was so good that she would desire to have back? To wake up before sunset to go serve coffee all day? Run from the diner to the community school and study things she knew she was never going to really use in real life, until she almost fell asleep over the books? Take the bus late at night and walk home in fear of being robbed, assaulted, raped? To dream of the weekend when she could have a day off to go running on the woods and practice her free running with sport colleagues? She knew the colleagues were most definitely gone, but to run on the woods and jump up and down things was still pretty much possible, if not needed.

"We must plan things then," the young man by her side cut the silence, removing Sam from her thoughts just as they had reached the child she assumed she was having. No time to think about that now, though. "With this group we can do quite a lot, I bet."

"Like what?" Sam asked. She had her own opinions about what they could, or should do, but she wanted to hear what others thought.

"From the top of my mind; fortify an area around us. Like, really close the space with fences, or walls. This way no walker would get to us and no people to rob our things."

Sam nodded for a moment, "I've thought that too. But how do we build fences? Wood?"

Glenn and Sam spent long minutes discussing it, just throwing ideas up in the air, one more unlikely than the other. They knew the notion of physically closing the area around was good, but extremely hard to comply.

"I just feel like this ain't where we're gonna stay." She confessed after they sadly understood just how tied their hands were. "It's too open; too close to the city, too uncomfortable to be for a long time. But it ain't no good to think about this now, you know, 'cause it's working so far."

"Yeah, you're right, but what has to happen for it _not_ to work anymore? Walkers?"

"I don't worry about walkers, honestly. What worries me more now is that the food is running short. We're twenty people eating twice a day; there's children growing up, how am I supposed to feed everyone for long?"

"Your friends are out hunting, aren't they?"

"Yeah, and they'll come back with some meat, but I ain't sure it'll be enough. And if they bring a big hog or dear or something, we gonna have to cook it all or we'll lose the meet. How long's it gonna last? Two, three days?"

"With this heat, it would rot even before that long." Glenn informed her, an apologetic look on his face. "But we could salt it."

"Come again?" Sam turned to him curiously.

Glenn proceeded to tell her, more excitedly by the second, that he had read on the internet something about the process of salting meat to make it last, and that this process could preserve it for as long as months.

"Only thing, though," Glenn concluded, his smile dyeing out, "is that we'd need to have quite a lot of salt. I mean, many pounds, you know."

Crossing her arms, Sam went silent, Glenn following her lead as she turned around and started to slowly walk back towards the camp. She knew where they could go and try to find what they would need, but she didn't feel like it was a good option. It seemed too risky, and none of them knew how things were back in Atlanta after the bombing. There was to guarantee they would ever find anything useful there.

"Did you know Shane has been teaching some of us how to shoot?" Glenn cut the silence after they had walked back about half way to camp. "We've been going away a few miles so the noise won't attract walkers to the camp. I had learned before, but now I've trained and he said I'm doing pretty well."

"I knew that. I'm the one who suggested you'd do it far from here." She said walking but stopped right then and turned to Glenn. "Why do you say that?"

He had a determined face as he took a breath before saying "I am ready to go make a run to Atlanta."

Sam only stared at him for a moment, eyeing him carefully as she clearly looked for some sign of uncertainty, but other than Glenn's gentle eyes and slightly raised eyebrows, she found none.

"You sure?"

"I am. Remember what I told you when we met on the road? I know Atlanta like my own hand. I used to deliver pizzas all over the city and –"

"And ya run pretty fast." Sam cut Glenn, who just smiled. "I remember."

"So?"

"I worry, Glenn. You'd be alone out there with walkers all over. At least take someone with you."

"I don't think so, Sam." He answered firmly, but still with his gentle tone. "I'll be faster alone."

"I feel responsible." She told him as she crossed her arms, sounding life a confession. "I'm the one who brought you in. You're in this group 'cause of me and ya'll be out there risking your life to get food for the group. Ya get it?"

He nodded with a tight smile. "I get it, Sam, but you've just said yourself. New life, we all have to face it? If this may be my job in the group, then I'll do it. And I'll be careful, I promise."

'Alright…" she said after a moment, though reluctant. Glenn smiled more openly now, glad. "But come back, ya hear me? In one piece. And bring food."

"And salt if I can find!" he completed with a laugh.

They both turned and restarted their walk to the camp. Glenn proceeded to tell Sam what he thought he should take with him; a gun and ammo, more than one blade, food for at least a whole day out. She told him it all could be arranged, and with all agreed as they reached the clearing once again, she told him he'd leave in the morning and Glenn, happy with himself, left to start separating his stuff. There, overlooking the clearing and the automatic motion the group seemed to have acquired in the past days, Sam had to double check to see if Merle and Daryl were back from their hunting, since the other one's thundering, rude voice rang inside her head. They were not back yet, though. " _…_ _don't wanna be responsible for all those shitheads. Wouldn't wanna be in your shoes if they start seein' you as the leader…_ " he had told her, and now Sam wondered when the hell had Merle Dixon turned wise. Glenn had just asked her permission to do something – something _important_ – and she had considered, thought of pros and cons, and authorized him. Why hadn't he asked Shane, when the two of them along with some other members of the group used to spend time together when training shooting – perfectly good opportunities to talk about it?

" _Every pack need a leader, sweetheart._ "

* * *

Ignoring her rolling, angry stomach, threatening to make her waste her breakfast, Sam slowly sipped out of an old, metal jug of water, careful breaths until she felt like it was safe to walk around again.

"Hey, Sam!", she heard and turned to look up at Dale on top of his RV. He pointed out in the direction of the woods. "Your friends are back."

Smiling as a thank you, Sam turned to where he had pointed, still unable to see them for a moment, but after a few seconds they appeared among the trees. First there was Merle, his clothes so dirty they even looked darker, strings of tied up squirrels hanging from his shoulders and, behind him, Daryl carried a dear over his shoulders, his face sweaty and dirty. As she approached smiling, Sam saw Daryl's eyes dance around the camp, looking for something until they fell on her. She could have sworn that she saw a smile there, on his lips, but it was quick, his face returning to the same closed, sulky one she knew. With a smile of her own, Sam headed to where they were both now being greeted by the better part of the group, cheering the prospect of having fresh meat tonight.

"Look at ya'll fuckin' vultures!" Merle was laughing when Sam approached. "Ya'll never direct a fuckin' work to me, but now I got the meat! Now ya'll my best friends, ain't ya?"

"We're just glad you two got good result doing your part to get the camp going on, is all." Shane was explaining as he took the strings of squirrel from Merle.

"Yeah, but ya'll get to clean 'em up." Daryl said as he dropped the dead dear.

"Hey, bro, old world had gold-diggers; we got ourselves some meat-diggers now!" Merle said and laughed aloud of his own joke.

"Don't be a jerk, Dixon," Sam told him as she stood by them.

"Hey, hey sugar face!" Merle said happily as wrapped an arm around her. "Miss me, didn't ya?"

"Fuck, Merle, you stink!" and she started slapping him to get him away. "Get off me!"

"Ya love me!" he said letting her go. "I know ya do, ya loved me before I got ya meat, unlike all there meat-diggers!"

"Yeah, yeah, right, love ya, now get outta here and go wash."

"What won't I do for ya, sweetheart?" he said as he turned to go down to the lake.

"Welcome back anyway, stinky!" Sam laughed as he left.

As she turned to talk to Daryl, all the other people were already walking away, taking all the dead animals with them. Daryl gave her a tiny, shy smile.

"Think I stink too…" he told her

"Ya been out long," Sam damped it down. "Good to see you."

Daryl nodded but didn't answer. He only started walking in the same direction Merle had gone, Sam stepping up by his side. "How's things 'round here? Good?"

"Quiet, I guess. Few walkers around the perimeter but we've been catching them before they get here… But food's starting to run low. Hey, do you know something about preserving meat?"

As they crossed the cam and descended to the bottom or the quarry, Daryl told her how to do it with salt and how this was, due to the circumstances, their only preserving option. If Glenn didn't find salt enough to do so, Daryl would have to go away hunting with Merle much more often.

"Nah, no fuckin' way I'll do that. Can't be alone with Merle that long."

"How come?"

"Not used to it... He wasn't around much. Every now and then he'd just vanish and not come back for a long time."

"Why?"

"He's got issues."

"Yeah, I can see that. But he'd just… Leave?"

"Yeah, most times without even saying goodbye; just left me there to handle it alone."

"Handle it?" Sam asked looking at him, still slowly descending the patch. "What did you have to handle?"

Daryl shook his head, a bitter, little smile on his lips. "Forget it."

"Ok… Well… For what's worth, I also know all about handling things on my own." Sam sees Daryl look at her then, curiosity in his blue eyes. Looking at him as well, she smiled. "I'll tell if you tell."

He held in a laugh, his smile enlarging. "Not a chance."

"Alright then. Hey, uh, how is he? I mean, with the drug thing? He's been using that blue crystal he got?"

"Bit, not much. He's trying to cut out. He's been weird 'cause of that."

"Why's he cutting out?"

"Well, ya know, if he's high and a bunch of walkers come up he won't have the reflexes to deal. Says he knows that, so he's got to try and be alert."

"He's never been more right," Sam agrees just as they reach the lake and see, yards away, that Merle is washing waist deep in the water. "We gotta keep an eye on him… Withdrawal won't be easy if he cuts back altogether."

* * *

On top of Dale's RV. Sam stood observing the camp beneath her. Night had fallen and, with it, the sleepy silence of the post-dinner relaxation; it had been the first one with meat in a few days. She watched as Lori and Carol quietly left the clearing, each one bringing her child to the tents. Around camp men on their posts keeping watch; in the center Shane kicked dirt from the ground to the fire, putting it out. She breathes deeply but quietly, relieved to be feeling quite well after dinner. No night-sickness today, and she wondered if she was far along enough to be out of that faze already. Calculating quickly, she concluded that it probably wasn't the case. Maybe she'd feel sick in an hour or so. Turning around, she took a seat by Dale on the second folding chair, silence claiming them for a moment.

"Glenn's going to Atlanta in the morning." She quietly told the older man, who turned his head to look at her.

"Do you think it's safe?" he asked carefully.

"No. I don't think anything is really safe now… But it's needed."

"Can he pull it out?"

"Yeah, I think so. He's confident, he can shoot, run fast. I'm giving him the chance."

"Chance of what?"

"Of feeling useful," she said looking at him too. "We need food and other stuff he'll be looking for, but I think it's mostly about him feeling he's needed. You know? I think we all need it."

"You're absolutely right." Dale nodded, relaxing into his chair again. "Why do you think I stand here looking out for the better part of the day? I think it's what I can do, my part. I'm not so good at killing them; maybe not fast enough."

"I know…" Sam went quiet for a moment, both of them looking down and around. "Your lookout is crucial just like the job each one here's doing. We need the guards around camp, we need the kids gathering twigs for the fire, we need Shane teaching people how to shoot and organizing the patrols, and Merle and Daryl going hunting, Carol and the others cooking and keeping water clean… I'm just… Still not so sure what _I'm_ doing."

While she spoke, Sam wondered why she was talking about it. She liked Dale but had never really sat down to talk to him. Perhaps there was something about being the eldest of camp, with a wise look, that made people want to open up to him. She had seen other doing it before. Andrea was the one who did it most; she noticed how they had become friends since the beginning.

"You're not sure what you're doing?" Dale asked her, a tone somewhat unbelieving on his voice. "Sam, you're –" he stopped to laugh a little "You're leading us!"

She stared at him, mouth agape for a moment before shaking her head and leaning further back into her chair. "Fuck, Dale, I don't know how it happened. Why? I mean it, why did I become the – the ' _leader'_ of the group?" she made air quotes as she spoke. "I've never done anything like that in my life, I was a fuckin' waitress! How – how did that happen?"

Dale shook his head slowly, still smiling. "Since the road, before we all left looking for a place, you stated your opinions and they all made sense, you faced what was to come and thought about what would be best for all, and what I liked the most, personally, you stood up for Shane, who had taken the decisions for himself with his _'_ _I'm a cop'_ speech."

"I just had common sense, Dale. I don't think anything I said or did was out of what would be right, no matter who was making the decision. Just… Yeah, common sense. And as for Shane, I – I mean, I never let myself scare by men, you know… Imposing, stronger, kinda sexist men. I stood up for my opinions and the rest just came with it."

"So, you've just explained exactly why you're at the head of camp, Sam. Common sense, the best for all first. I, personally, would choose you over him without a second thought exactly because of that. And I know it must be scary, to be in this position all of a sudden, during the apocalypse, it's quite a responsibility. But don't forget than other than the four children, the rest of us are all adults who are also capable of having common sense. You're not alone."

Sam went quiet after that, observing camp with Dale for a few more minutes, thoughtful. Merle's words kept coming back to her mind and scared her, but Dale's thought helped her keep balance and not freak out. Just common sense, it was all she needed.


	11. Day 59

The way their camp looked now made perfectly clear that long weeks had gone by. After being there for almost exactly two months, the group of twenty had made the clearing, woods and tents home. The RV had the plastic roof constantly up, folding tables and chairs under it with their aluminum feet stuck into the dry earth. Someone had placed wild flowers in plastic cups, trying to make things feel homey; by one side, lines were extended from tree to tree, wet clothes and bed clothing hanging from them; improvised stoves on tripods hung above the constant fires; tents had been rearranged to their comfort, clothes hanging and pairs of shoes left in front of each.

Routine had been settled. Shane and Sam had separated with clear limits what was each one's job – Shane still took care of camp safety, organizing lookout shifts and guns, while Sam took care of pretty much everything else, like food and water supply, organization and maintenance of their gear, both previous possessions and new stuff Glenn would usually bring back with him from his weekly runs to Atlanta – but mainly, Sam took care of the people around. She had never known before, but she was good at listening and understanding problems they all would present to her, and with her common sense, was quite capable of finding solutions, or at least helping them find it themselves. Sam still didn't feel comfortable at giving other comfort. She wasn't a hugger or spoke softly: she was more the tough love kind of person, who would always be honest and give her opinion, no matter what it was.

Sam still hadn't lost the habit of keeping track of time. She knew exactly which day into the apocalypse they were – 59 days – and how far along she was with the accidental, unwanted pregnancy – 10 weeks. Still keeping it a secret, she had been feeling better these days, the nightly sickness reducing day by day to nearly nothing. She did feel hungrier now, but forced herself not to eat more than the others, thinking it wouldn't be fair. Conscious she wouldn't be able to keep it a secret for too long, Sam planned on how she was going to bring it up to Daryl, her decision to tell him first still firm, but still couldn't picture a good situation to do that. She could feel her lower belly a bit grown, but it still didn't show under her clothes.

With nearly two months into the end of the world, great part of their days were spent with hopeful attempts to get news, to get some contact over the radio, hoping Glenn would return from his last run bringing good news. None of it ever happened, though. The static of the radio was always their only response, and Glenn would always answer their hopeful looks with a shake of his head, tight lips, telling them he found nothing. He did bring back things – food, clothes, gas, and everything he thought could be useful. All, except for information and rescue.

The day before the next run Glenn would make to Atlanta, he gathered Sam and Shane so he could talk to them about it. He reminded them what he had informed the last time he returned; he had found an abandoned department store that was still completely untouched, filled with clothes, kitchen apparels, camping, fishing and hunting gear, canned food and maybe even more useful things he couldn't spare the time to take a look. This week, he planned on going specifically there, to this store, and thought maybe he could use an extra pair of hands.

"Do you have someone in mind?" Shane asked him.

"One of you guys, maybe?" Glenn told him looking back and forth between them, a little unsure.

"Nah, I ain't going." Shane crossed his arms above puffed chest, a definite tone on his voice. "Not leaving camp alone, all the people and stuff. I ain't going."

"I'll go." Sam said with the same tone. Shane looked sharply at her. "I think we all gotta know how to deal with a run, ya know? Actually, Glenn, I've been thinking… You're pretty good at it, I think you've killed more walkers than any of us at this point. Maybe you could take more of us with you."

"Oh, Sam, I don't know…"

"Look, I know you said you'd rather go alone." Sam interrupted him. Shane still had his arms crossed, just listening. "And I know you handle yourself well, but we all have to be able to do it. To go on runs, to get things back to camp, and most importantly, to defend ourselves and the others. We're not developing any of those abilities by staying in camp mainly sitting around all day."

"She's got a point there, man." Shane opined. "It's better if more than just one person's able to do it, we could have more than a group going on runs at a time, keeping things in motion."

"What do you think? You up for taking a group with you this time?" Sam questioned Glenn, who still looked uncertain.

"Alright…" he agreed reluctantly and then added a little bit more certain: "But you gotta make it clear to anyone who goes that I'll be in charge. They'll have to listen to me, if I say we move on, we move on. If I say we retreat, we retreat."

"You got it." Sam nodded sharply. "I'll be there anyway, if anyone gives you a hard time."

"Good." Shane uncrossed his arms. "I'll go ask people who wants to go. How many do you think?" he asked to both Sam and Glenn

"Uh, I – Five. Yeah, about five. No, I don't know. Less than ten."

"Glenn," Sam stated firmly. "You'll be this run's leader. Make a decision and stay firm in it."

"Sorry, yeah, uh… Six or seven. Yeah, seven, at most."

"Seven it is." Shane mumbled before turning around and leaving.

As Shane walked around camp talking to each adult personally, Sam went back to the tents where she was about to gather a few of her stuff in a backpack to get ready to go the next morning. She was met by Daryl, returning from the most secluded area of the woods, where they had dig holes in the most sanitary way possible, and told him about the recent decision.

"You sure ya gonna go?" he asked her carefully when she told him she'd be going.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Why?"

"'Cause you was sick 'til two days ago."

"I'm fine nor, Daryl."

"Still think ya shouldn't go."

"I'll be fine, don't worry."

He stopped talking for a moment to watch her dive into her tent and return after a few seconds with an empty backpack in hand.

"Then I'm going too."

"Didn't you say you were going hunting?"

"It can wait."

"It can't, Daryl, you know it can't. We need food, real meat, not the canned crap we may find out there." Sam saw Daryl start to speak in answer, but cut him out. "You know Merle can't go hunting alone. He's not fine, he's withdrawing, and he'll want to do something. He'll want to go hunting or to go to this run, either way he shouldn't be alone. One of us should be with Merle; the others can't deal with him."

"So we gotta baby sit on a fuckin' grown ass man now?" Daryl asked bitterly, even though he already knew the answer was yes. "I don't like it, Sam. Don't want you going out there where I can't help ya."

"I know that, it's how I feel when you guys go out there hunting. I don't go with you when we all should stay together, from the beginning, like we agreed. Things are not like that, though, we can't have each other's backs all the time. I'll go on this run and Merle will let us know pretty soon where he'll want to be; hunting or Atlanta, and we'll go with it."

"How long do ya think it'll take?"

"A day, probably, we'll be back at night or in the morning, at most."

Before he could say anything, Merle's thundering, laughing voice broke into the tents' space. "Hey, Sam! I'm coming with ya! Not gonna let those fucker's get to ya, sweetheart! Got ya back!" and he turned around to leave once again, still shouting. "Atlanta, here I come!"

Sighing, Sam looked back at Daryl, his face showing just how annoyed and worried he was. She reached out to touch his arm. "We'll be alright, don't worry."

He shook his head and took a step back, opening space between them, Sam's hand dropping to her side. "Can't help it." He told her before walking away.

* * *

Sam had only been able to enjoy the other's company around the fire at night twice before. It had become a habit; some of them would take their spots on the lookout while the rest gathered around a low fire. Strong enough to warm the chill night but low enough not to be seen from a distance. There, they sat for about a couple of hours to eat and talk until sleep took them and quieted the camp until the next morning. Having been sick every night until a few days before, Sam had never been really able to enjoy it, and was glad now she could. They had had chicken soup – it had been thinned with salted water to serve more people, but it still had tasted good – and were now quietly talking, tin mugs being passed from hand to hand. Sam was mostly watching and listening to the others talk, observing how the other interacted.

She could see Andrea and Amy had become quite close to Dale, who seemed to be some kind of father figure to them, though she didn't think Dale thought of Andrea paternally. Shane was always close to Lori and Carl, Sam had noticed it from the first day, and it had been intensifying these days. Jim and Jackie were good friends too, closer to the Morales then to any others. Glenn got along with everyone, except for the Dixons, who didn't get along with anyone other than Sam. The Peletiers were always away, in their own little circle, Ed probably imposing that Carol and Sofia stayed with him, unable to get close to anybody else. Sam hated it, but she knew she could never force Carol to stand up for her husband, take her daughter and go sit with the others.

Merle was on his watch duty, which he always accomplished by complaining a lot, but did his job. Daryl was around, sitting on a log a bit outside the circle, close to Sam and only listening, as usual. By Sam's side, Amy took a sip of a drink on her tin mug and then offered it to her, the blonde, young woman nodding wordlessly in her direction. Sam took it with a smile as a thank you and kept listening to Dale tell the circle about his late wife and the time he gave her a kitten for her birthday, to only then find out she was allergic to cats.

Smiling as she thought of how she had never had any kind of pet in her life, Sam brought the mug to her lips to take a sip. The smell of wine hit her strongly, like a punch on her nose, and the liquid touched her lips, the nectarous burn of the cheap sweet wine making her mouth water, her taste buds coming hungrily to life, starving, ordering Sam's brain to demand for more, for a full gulp, for the whole mug, for the entire bottle. Deciding she should just drain it, drink it all, fall around drunkenly forgetting all the worries, all the walkers, the pregnancy, the responsibilities, the ghosts from the past.

Instead, as soon as the wine touched her tongue, Sam spit it out. She spit it strongly, loud noise coming out as the red liquid sprayed towards the center of the circle. All heads turned to her, startled. Behind her, Daryl nearly got up but refrained, remained sitting but attentive to his friend.

"What the fuck!" She yelled, a hand rubbing at her lips to clean them. "That's fuckin' wine!"

"Sam?" Shane was the one to ask as he stood up just as Sam did, her body language foreign to all of the group. "What's the matter?"

Instead of giving him any attention, Sam looked down at Amy, who had the same startles expression the others did.

"Did you just give me a mug of wine without telling me what it was?!" she yelled and then threw the white painted tin mug to the ground, making Amy flinch, eyes wide in shock. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Amy stuttered, trying to answer, but her older sister was already by Sam. "Hey, back off!" Andrea told her. "What's the problem?"

"The problem!" Sam carried on yelling. Daryl was also up, as most of the circle was now, and approached her slowly, fully aware of Sam's and everyone else's movements. "The fuckin' problem is that you don't just give fuckin' alcohol to people without warning them what the fuck it is! I thought it was tea!"

"So what?!" Andrea still countered, now standing in front of her young sister.

"What the fuck is the problem, Sam?" she also heard Shane ask her and saw him approach with puffed chest. On her peripheral vision, she saw Daryl get closer, now by her side rather than behind her.

"The fuckin' problem is that this was the first time in three fucking years," she paused and moved on, "three years, four months and seventeen fuckin' days, that I've had any real contact with any drink! That's what's the fuckin' matter with it!"

Nobody spoke. Sam saw the awkwardness fall over them replacing the astonishment like rain, people exchanging uncomfortable looks. Andrea turned back to look at Amy, who looked down. The only noise was the fire crackling softly and Sam's ragged breaths and sniffs.

It didn't take more than five seconds for Daryl to reach out and hold Sam's arm just above her elbow and, with a gentle tug, pull her with him. Unthinkingly, Sam moved, allowing Daryl to guide her out of the circle towards the tents. She had moved halfway there with him still holding her arm when he felt her stop walking. He stood by her, watching her face. She had closed up, a single tear path on her face, eyes lost onto the words. She turned around then, Daryl let her go, and took a few steps back towards the circle, but didn't return there. She stopped only close enough to be heard.

"There was no way you could've known," she started and lifted her lowered hear to look at Amy. "I'm sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm sorry I yelled at you."

With that, without waiting for any answer or gesture, Sam turned around again and walked over to where Daryl was waiting for her, and together they moved out of everyone's sight, silence falling over them. Sam sat down heavily in a log close to the tents, her both legs shaking, elbows resting on them making her whole body tremble. She breathed hard, licked her lips, dried the sweat from her face.

"Fuck!" she yelled suddenly, head falling between her knees. "Fuck, why did it have to…" and she didn't finish her sentence, though Daryl understood.

"You didn't want nobody to know," he affirmed.

"No," her answer came out muffled by her hands that covered her face. "Nobody had to know. Ain't nobody's business. But I bet you knew."

"Wasn't sure." They were silent again for a moment and Daryl took the time to sit by her side, on the other end of the log. "Was just alcohol?"

Sam took a deep breath, hands releasing her face, and popped her neck. "Was mostly alcohol, whatever I could get my hands on. Cheap wine was the main choice… Just like the one I tasted just now. But… Drugs too, on occasion."

Daryl nodded slowly, saying nothing else, and started biting on his lower lip. He understood her problem really well. He had Merle, his admittedly addict to every drug that was illicit and licit brother, and his own father who had been heavily alcoholic until his liver exploded, not to mention tens of friends and acquaintances.

"I had enough examples at home not to get into it too deep," he heard himself sharing, having not planned on it. He saw Sam turn her head to look at in, interested, maybe glad to have a distraction, so he moved on, even though he had no idea what to say. "Father died of cirrhosis, he drank so much… And Merle, you know Merle."

"Yeah…" she answered in a whisper that was for his ears only. "Good… Good that you didn't…"

"Almost did, though… There was a time… But then I started seeing a lot of old Will on me so I backed out," he confessed and snorted a laugh. "Merle called me all kindsa things."

Sam smiled with him. "Yeah, he would."

They shared one more long moment of silence before Sam spoke again. "My dad was a nice guy. Never saw him drink a drop of alcohol. Died of cancer."

"Life ain't fair." Daryl told Sam, knowing where her thoughts were going.

She nodded, looking down with a sad smile, her legs no longer trembling so much. "Spot on."

"Well, at least in the apocalypse ain't gonna be too easy to come across temptations…"

Sam smiled again and looked once more at Daryl. He looked shy, lips pressed together, self-conscious about his attempt to cheer her up a bit. The sight made her smile more.

"Yeah, I don't think people will offer me mugs on unknown drinks too often."

"You know what them parents say: never accept a drink from strangers." Daryl mumbled lowly, his voice grave but amused.

Sam laughed aloud now, a strange feeling on her chest that had nothing to do with the abstinence syndrome that had threatened to overtake her. Her heart swelled at the knowledge of Daryl trying to cheer her up and comfort her, and she just couldn't help but allow a large smile to lighten up her face.

"I think it was candy!" she told him, laughing. "Don't take candies from strangers."

"Yeah, well, ya had a nice guy for a dad. Mine said that about drinks."

Sam knew how sad this thought was, deep down, but still smiled. He did too, for a moment, and she could actually see teeth, something she wasn't used to see too often, but he hid the larger smile again, looking down embarrassedly.

Silence fell again, but not at all uncomfortable. Sam still wanted to smile, but she still tasted the wine on her tongue, her mind confused about how she felt at the moment. She wanted to thank Daryl for talking to her, distracting her, and she wanted to ask more about his life, but was afraid to scare him away. She desired to go back to the fire and take the rest of the bottle wine and drain it down, and she wanted to scotch over closer to Daryl and just be there. She didn't do anything, though, instead she looked back over her shoulders, just like Daryl, at the sound of feet crunching dry leaves, and saw Merle approach, his imposing presence worsened by a thousand by the presence of a full bottle of whiskey loosely held on his left hand.

"Hey there, Boozer!" Merle thundered as he stepped over the log between Sam and Daryl and stood in front of them. "How come ya didn't tell me, we coulda shared some vitamin water!"

"Oh, fuck off, Merle…" Sam said resting her elbows on her kneed and hiding her face on her hands again.

"Oh, come on, Alkie! I know ya want it!" he sing-songed shaking the whiskey bottle.

"Yes!", she yelled shooting up from the log. "Ya know I want it, so why are ya doing this?!"

"The fuck ya doin' Merle?" Daryl was up too.

"It's the end of the fuckin' world!" he laughed and opened the bottle lid. "Bit won't hurtcha!"

"But it will!" she yelled and took a step back from him and his bottle. "Ya know it will, ya know what'll do to me if I take a sip."

"I know. Ya gonna fuckin' relax, is what's gonna happen!", and with that he took a long gulp out of the bottle, a deep, unpleasant ' _ah!_ " sound following it.

"Ain't ya trying to quit it?" Daryl asked him as Sam turned her back to Merle, arms crossed.

"Quitting on crystal and coke. Ain't never said I'd stop the booze." Another gulp followed it.

"Just leave me alone, Merle." Sam told him quietly.

"Why? Yeah, I know why!" he drawled walking over to her. "Is cause ya know ya want it more than any fuckin' thing right now. Ya want it more than ya want to breathe!"

"Merle!", Sam heard Daryl say in a firm, angry voice. He stood between his brother and Sam's back right before he reached her. "Back the fuck away from her."

Before Merle could say anything else – which, by the look she saw on the older Dixon's face when she turned, would be a pissed-off remark, the beginning of a fight between the brothers, which would make the situation even worse – Sam interrupted them both.

"I want you away from me, Merle." She started and the dry tone of her voice made even Daryl turn and stare. "I thought you had become my friend those month, but I was fucking wrong. You are the worst person someone could have their life. I've met horrible people, Merle, and you have just proved to be one of them. This thing you did now, it's despicable. Ain't something you do to your enemy. This thing here, that we had - this ' _friendship_ ', it's over. Ya ruined it. Get the fuck away from me, Dixon."

She didn't wait to see or listen to any reaction. She rounded him and walked away a few steps, but didn't leave the tent area since it was dark and unsafe to go wandering too far. Silence followed her where she stood, arms crossed, unseeing eyes staring into the darkened woods, trembles returned to her legs. After a moment she heard the leaved being crunched under careful, gentle feet. This information alone told her it was not Merle. Daryl entered her eyesight and stood there with her, silent.

"I didn't think ya should go on that run tomorrow," he started with a whisper. "Now I'm sure ya shouldn't go."

"I'm fine, Daryl…"

"I know ya fine. Ya gonna be alright. I mean 'bout Merle."

"What about him?"

"He's goin'. You said ya'd be the only one to look after him. Ya can't now."

"I'm still going. Glenn gonna need me there. I gotta be –"

She stopped talking when they heard steps again, both turning to look in silence. Among the tents, in the darkness, they saw as Lori tiptoed from her own tent towards the neighbor one – where Shane lived. Lori stopped there, looked around, her eyes sweeping over the spot where Sam and Daryl stood, not seeing them. Silently, the tent's zipper was opened from the inside and they could see Shane's head come out of it, look around quickly as well, before his hand reached out to take Lori's, pulling her with him inside. They heard the zipper being closed once more, and then he silence returned to the sleeping area.

"Yeah, they all'll need ya." Daryl broke the silence once again, turning to look at Sam again. He whispered impatiently, but softness still coated his voice. "But what ya gonna do when Merle starts actin' out? Ya know he gonna."

"I know that." She told him, exhaustion taking her tone. "But that's exactly why I wanted to go, and I still go, 'cause of that. Fight or no fight, him being a fuckin' asshole to me or not, nobody there will be able to talk him out of it."

"And you will?"

"I don't know, Daryl, I'll just, I don't know… I can't…"

"You ok?"

"No, I need to lie down. I'm going to bed."

She turned to go and Daryl followed her automatically until they stopped in front of her small, bright orange tent. Arms crossed, Sam looked down.

"Thank you, Daryl…"

"For what?"

"Staying with me and talking and… Distracting me of the... You know."

"'S nothin'."

"It ain't nothing and you know it." She whispered decisively and looked at him. "And, I mean, mostly for trying to protect me from Merle."

He smiled that shy, tight lipped smile Daryl had. "Ya hardly need protection, especially from Merle."

She returned his smile. "I know. But ya did it anyway and…" she shrugged, looking down again. "Is nice." She told him in a gentle whisper. He didn't answer and, looking at him again, Sam knew he was embarrassed wordless. She smiled at the notion, again, and moved to the tent. "Goodnight, Daryl."

She entered then and, just as she zipped the tent closed, she thought she heard him say "Goodnight, Sam," but it was so quietly she wasn't sure. As she lay down on her folding bed, her trembling legs and painfully pounding heart had given way to fluttering butterflies in her stomach.


	12. Day 60 - part 1

The next day found Sam up even before daylight. She felt fine, not perfect, but better than the night before. She had had a bad dream about drinking uncountable amounts of wine and throwing up as Daryl held her hair up, the desperate cries of a baby in the background, her mind too foggy and drunk to make her go and tent to it. She had woken up, mouth dry, drowned in an entire plastic bottle of water and gone back to sleep, this time thankfully with no dreams. Now, as the gathered her own backpack among the others, she saw Darryl approach quietly. With a look, she knew he had something to say. The way he kept his head down but his eyes glued on hers, teeth nibbling on his lower lip, also told her that he didn't want to say whatever it was in front of the others.

Sam nodded at him once, sharply, and turned around to walk away, knowing he'd follow. She marched over to stand among the empty tents and turned around, arms crossed, to see Darryl join her. Now that they were alone, he let show what he was thinking. His pace was annoyed and agitated.

"Ya ain't goin'." he stated clearly.

"Yes, I am." Sam said just as firmly.

"Y ain't!" he took a large step towards her and stood close, looking down at her. "I get you wanted to go before, but after last night, with Merle out there with ya – Just tell Shane to go!"

"If he goes, not me, Merle will be out there alone with all those people," she also took a step, entering her personal space. Daryl straightened his back but didn't move away. "He's going and we can't convince him not to. I don't want him out there, not the way he is since yesterday, and what he did to me, but you know we can't stop him."

"I'll go then!" Daryl threw his arms up, but still didn't back away. "I'll go to help and contain him if that what this is about."

"You're going out to hunt, Daryl!" Sam gesticulated at him, getting impatient. "We're low on food, we need you to do this, we've talked about it already! Please, it is your job, you know that."

"My job?!" Daryl seethed. "My fuckin' job is looking after you! Go out and find food for all these people I don't even care about ain't more important than having your back!"

Sam got stuck in place, arms still crossed and looking up at his reddened blue eyes, hatred evident as he breathed hard. She blinked and opened her mouth to speak but closed it again, uncertain of what to say.

"Ya not going." he repeated in a definitive tone before turning around and walking away from her angrily, and still said over his shoulder. "Merle gonna deal with himself."

* * *

As Glenn said, the department store was still untouched, an actual supply paradise. The group looked around, delighted, and Glenn explained that he had been there already, got to know the back doors, rooftops of this and adjacent buildings, fire escapes and alleys around, all to make sure he could get in and out safely. The others thanked and congratulated him, glad to imagine how long they'd be able to survive out of so any new things. Also thanking him, Sam was proud to see him take charge and organize the group the best he could, splitting them all up to go gather things. As the others wandered away, Merle stood by her, his old, well know smirk firm on place.

"Watcha gonna get me do, sweetheart?"

"I ain't calling the orders today, Dixon."

He laughed. "Ain't no fuckin' way I'm letting China boy tell me what to do! And the fuck is that calling me Dixon all about? Still pissed 'bout last night?"

"Did you forget what I told you? Were you that drugged?"

"Wasn't drugged, princess, I'm quitting it. Did have a bit o'whiskey though."

"Do I need to tell you what happened then?"

"I remember just fine, thank ya very much. Just didn't thing ya'd be the type to hold the grudge 'cause of a fuckin' joke."

"You of all people should know ya don't joke 'bout this kinda thing, Dixon. I meant it, just stay away. Do your job as Glenn tells you, just like everyone else, try to be normal for once."

She walked away from him then, unable to look at his face any longer, but still heard as he mumble, his footsteps going up the stairs, "Ain't getting orders from China boy." She took a deep breath, eyes closed. As angry as she was with him, as much as she wanted to cut any kind of relationship with him, she had the feeling that this had not been the right moment to do it. Something bad was going to come out of it.

A couple of hours later, the mount of supplies scavenged that they all left close to one of the doors was huge. They had found clothes, tools, camping gear and even a few kitchen stuff. The mood around was good, Sam could see smiles she rarely saw on camp, but she was worried herself. Glenn had told her Merle had been up on the rood, a rifle in hand, looking around to the other buildings, keeping guard. She would be relieved if she believed he would not do anything wrong until they left. Just as she thought about going up to call him down, since they'd be leaving in the next few minutes, all thoughts and smiles were gone. From the street, gunshots cut the eerie silence of Atlanta, followed after seconds by walkers passing in front of the store, seeable through the glass doors. The gunshots kept ringing, now strangely accompanied by horse hoofs hitting the asphalt.

"Fuck! What the fuck!" Sam cried as the number of walkers outside doubled every second. Without saying anything more than yelling in outrage, all of them ran up the stairs that led to the roof in the hope of understanding what was going on. What they saw down there chilled their bones. Some strange man with a hat was on a horse, shooting at the walkers that surrounded him, hitting a few but attracting even more to him, to the street, to the front of the store and around their cars. They watched as the man got hopelessly surrounded and started to fall. Andrea turned around not to see the man get eaten, Jackie cried but kept looking. The man fell from the horse, which was immediately attacked by what looked like a hundred walkers, and completely disappeared from view.

"Fuckin' bastard only lived enough to fuck us up!" Merle said from the edge of the group, from where he also observed.

"No, wait!" Glenn pointed down to the street. "There he goes!"

He was right, Sam could see. The man still had his hat on as he crawled under the tank – yes, an army war tank that had been abandoned in the middle of the street – and once again disappeared. They heard gunshots again and then, nothing.

"Shit!" T-Dog broke the silence. " _Now_ he's gone."

"Don't tanks have a door on the floor?" Morales asked to no one in special. "Like, a second exit, for emergencies?"

"Dude, I have no idea if tanks have emergencies exits!" Glenn told him. "But I guess we can try the radio, see if he answers. I mean, if he's alive and I can get the tank channel…"

"Why would you want to contact him?" Andrea asked as she turned again to the group. "Look at what he did! He's killed us!"

"Killed us?" Jackie asked her. "What do you mean?"

"Do you see any way out of here? Every single walkes in this area is in front of the store, on our cars! It will take a miracle to get us out of here, and it's that son of a bitch's fault!"

"I hardly think the man did that on purpose." Sam told her as she got away from the edge of the building. "What would you do if you were surrounded by walkers and had a gun in hand?"

"It doesn't matter now, does it?" Andrea continued angrily. "We're fucked! Fucked!"

"Well, ya seem to like that word, blondie!" Merle laughed and blinked at her, his tongue coming out as he laughed. Andrea rolled her eyes and turned away from him.

"Glenn, do you think you could contact him?" Morales asked him, ignoring what Andrea had said.

"I guess I can try. You guys think I should?"

"I think it's up to you." Sam concluded.

He looked around to the people while they all remained silent. Sam knew he would try to help the stranger, this was Glenn after all, nice, sweet good-hearted Glenn, he would never leave someone to die, even if it was a complete stranger who had just ruined all their means of escape.

"Ok." Glenn said after a moment with a resolute nod. "Okay, then, I'll need to go down through that building so I'll get closer to the tank. I mean, If I can talk to him, but I guess I'll get as close as possible before even trying, so we'll make an escape fast. Ok. Right, when we come back, if it works out, we'll need to cross that alley we used to get in, but there will be a few walkers there, so I'm gonna need help."

"Ok, don't worry about it. I have the radio, you let me know when you're getting back to the alley, I got this."

Glenn gestured to Sam with his own radio and ran away crying "ok" over his shoulder. Seeing him retreat, Sam also set to motion, trying to think fast.

"Morales! T-Dog! Come with me!"

She ran downstairs, knowing they'd be behind her, her mind rolling through the supplies and the rest of the store, trying to figure a safe way to clear the alley for Glenn to return to the building, the stranger with him or not. When they got to the store, her mind was set on the sports section. Understanding immediately wheat she meant, T-Dog and Morales got on hockey uniforms and got baseball bats ready at hand. They heard shooting on the street again at this point.

"Ok, go, go!" Sam rushed the two men to the side room, where a door led to the alley. Her heart was racing, a chill on her stomach, thinking of how dangerous it was out there for Glenn, thinking she'd never forgive herself – or the man with the hat – if something happened to him.  
They stood in silence, ready, Sam with the radio raised close to her face, listening intently. After a moment, Andrea and Jackie joined them without a word, looking just as nervous as Sam felt.

"I'm back! Got a guest plus four geeks in the alley." Glenn's voice creaked on the radio.

"Ok, you two, go now!" Sam ordered the man. T-Dog opened the door and ran out, followed by Morales. The three women stood there, still, ears attentive to the noises. It was possible to hear the baseball bats crashing into walkers' skulls, feet running. In a moment, Glenn ran in, breathing hard and red on the face, followed by the stranger. Outside, T-Dog shouted for Morales to go back and both entered the room, the door being shut after them.

"You ok?" Sam asked Glenn, holding him by his upper arms.

"Fine!" he told her wide eyes and sweaty.

"Son of a bitch, we outta kill you!"

Sam let go of Glenn as she turned around to see Andrea cornering the man with a gun pointed right between his eyes. The man, who only now Sam saw was wearing a sheriff's uniform, remained silent, blue eyes wide.

"Just chill out, Andrea, back off." Morales told her as he started to take off the sports gear.

"Come on, ease out." Jackie also tried to appease the other woman.

"Ease out?" Andrea repeated without looking away from the man. "You're kidding me, right? We're dead because of that stupid asshole!"

"Andrea," Sam approached Andrea, her gun and the sheriff. "Back the fuck off!" she demanded but Andrea didn't move. She still stared at him, gun hand shaking, breathing hard. "What ya gonna do, shoot the man? I said back the fuck off, Andrea!"

The blonde, raging woman took a few more seconds before letting him go. She started crying immediately.

"We're dead. All of us, because of you."

"I don't understand." the man finally spoke.

"Yeah, I'll explain to you, sheriff," Sam told him and grabbed his left arm. She walked out of the room dragging him with her into the store, everybody else following them. "We came to the city to scavenge supplies. You know the key to scavenging is?" Sam told him remembering perfectly the day Glenn had told her these very words. "Surviving! You know the key to surviving? Sneaking in and out, tiptoeing, not shooting out the street like it's the O. K. Corral!"

T-Dog, by their side, completed her thought just as they stopped in the middle of the store, looking towards the glass doors. "Every walker for miles around heard you popping off rounds."

"You just rang the dinner bell." Andrea completed the thought. They all stood there, looking out, an enormous herd of walkers by the door, trying to get in.

"Get the picture now?" Morales asked darkly.

The glass doors were not going to hold for too long. It cracked on the top left side just as they looked, under the pressure of the herd. It didn't break, though, but it was a matter of time. They all backed away, scared.

"What the hell were you doing out there, anyway?" Andrea asked the sheriff.

"Trying to flag the helicopter."

"Helicopter?" T-Dog asked, uncertain, and looked around to the others. "Man, that's crap. Ain't no damn helicopter."

"You were chasing a hallucination," Jackie came quickly to the conclusion. "Imagining things. It happens."

"I saw it!" he said firmly annoyed.

Sam thought he sounded too certain for it to have been his imagination. What if there had really been a helicopter flying over Atlanta? It could mean rescue, but if the man had seen it, it had been about twenty minutes ago. It could be anywhere by now.

"Hey, T-Dog," Sam called him. "Try the radio again, see if you can contact the others."

He raised the radio instantly to channel it. They had tried it before, to contact the radio they had on camp, but it had been fruitless.

"Others?" the new man asked hopefully. "The refugee center?"

Sam laughed sadly, "Yeah, the refugee center!"

"They got biscuits waiting in the oven for us." Jackie rolled her eyes.

"Got no signal." T said still messing with the dial button. "Maybe the roof."

Before anyone could agree to climb the stairs and go try it again from the top of the building, a gunshot echoed down to the store, startling even more the already scared group.

"Oh, no! Was that Dixon?" Andrea asked to no-one, looking up.

As if agreed to, the group started running towards the stairs. All Sam could think was ' _I knew it! I fuckin' knew it!_ '

"What's that maniac doing?" Morales asked as they ran and Sam also heard Glenn calling the stranger to follow them upstairs. Sam ran in front of everyone up the stairs, her legs burning with the effort, but she only stopped when she stormed out of the door and onto the roof, only to see Merle standing on the parapet, aiming down and shooting what she thought would probably be walkers.

"Hey, Dixon, are you crazy?" Morales shouted as the others also cried out their disbelief. That was it, that's exactly what Sam had been talking about to Daryl; the moment where someone would have to control Merle had arrived.

"Hey! Ya'll be more polite to a man with a gun! Huh?" he laughed aloud as he turned to look at the others and hopped down to the concrete. "Only common sense!"

"Man, you're wasting bullets we ain't even got!", T-Dog approached him, shouting. "And you're bringing even more of them down our ass, man! Just chill!"

"Hey, bad enough I've got this taco-bender on my ass all day, now I'm gonna take orders from you? I don't think so, bro. That'll be the day."

They were facing each other now and Sam took the last few steps to stand by them.

"That'll be the day?" T-Dog repeated, his annoyance almost palpable. "You got something you wanna tell me?"

"T, just leave it," she told him. "It ain't worth it. Now, Merle," she turned to him. "Cut it out, alright? The fuck you doing?"

"Now ya talking to me? What happened to the get-away-from-me-Dixon bullshit, huh?" he looked briefly at her before facing T-Dog again. "I'll tell ya the day, Mr. Yo. It's the day I take orders from a nigger!"

"Son of a –", was all T-Dog said before he jumped on Merle, trying to punch him but missing. Sam took a step back to get away from the line of fire, instinctively. With the butt of his riffle, he knocked T-Dog down. The sheriff, who had been standing quietly by, also moved in, trying to stop Merle, but got punched square in the face. With that out of his way, Merle moved back to T, and there was no stop now. He hit him repeatedly until the man fell to the ground, hitting his forehead on a large pipe. With him down, Merle still threw punches down at him, unaware of all the cries pleading him to stop. They only stopped, frozen in dread, when Merle took out a handgun and pointed at the hurt man. A terrified silence took them all, T-Dog staring up at Merle with his eyes wide.

"Merle?" Sam cut the silence. "I know what this is, alright?" she said, her voice firm but controlled. "Dude, look at me. Merle?"

He did after a moment; gun still pointed, but looked right at Sam.

"Ya not gonna shoot him, alright? I know, and you know why you're doing this. Ok? You'll regret it later. Just cut it out."

He stared at her for a moment, then looked around at the others and down at T once again. Withdrawing his wand, the spit on the man's chest right before standing up. By the look on his face, the glassy, vicious eyes, Sam knew it wasn't over, and she knew it was not an abstinence crisis.

"Yeah! Alright!" He shouted, his gun on display across his chest. "We gonna have ourselves a little powwow, huh? Talk about who's in charge. I vote me!", he spoke as Andrea and Jackie helped T-Dog to get away from him. "Anybody else? Huh? Democracy time, y'all!"

Sam snorted by his side. "When I said cut it out I mean that too, Merle."

"Anybody here voted for ya to be in charge?" he looked right at her. "Huh? I'm giving 'em the chance now! Show of hands, huh? All in favor! Come on!"

"Merle, just –"

"Nobody? Guess I win then! That's good! Anybody else, huh? Anybody?"

"Yeah." Sam turned to see the sheriff by them. She hadn't heard him approach, his feet silent, and he shoved the butt of Merle's own rifle to the side of his head. Merle fell instantly and the sheriff straddled him, held his arm up and handcuffed him to a pipe so fast Sam couldn't even follow his movements.

"Hey!" Sam yelled at him just as he grabbed Merle and sat him up against the larger pipes.

"Who are you, man?" Merle asked him.

"Officer friendly." The sheriff took Merle's gun and checked it. "Look here, Merle. Things are different now. There are no niggers anymore, no dumb-ass shit, inbred white-trash fools either. Only dark meat and white meat. There's us and the dead, we survive by pulling together, not apart."

"Fuck you, man!"

"I can see you make a habit of missing the point."

"Yeah? Fuck you twice!"

Sam snorted again. "So mature, Dixon."

Not seeming to have heard her, the sheriff pointed the gun right at Merle's head. Sam took another step closer.

"Ought to be polite with a man with a gun! Only common sense."

"Ya wouldn't. You a cop!"

"All I am anymore is a man looking for his wife and son." He lowered the gun. "Anybody who gets in the way of that is gonna lose. I'll give you a moment to think about that."

Seeing Merle going quiet tranquilized Sam a bit. She still remained close as the cop checked on Merle's pockets and his hand came out with a little bag of coke. She knew he had to have used something, but now she was sure.

"Fuck, Merle…" she said, her voice disappointed.

"You got some on your nose there." The sheriff said looking at Merle form up close.

Merle laughed, "What ya gonna do? Arrest me?"

The man got up and threw the bag out of the building. Merle shouted, cursed, like a hurt feline in a cage, but everyone else seemed to have stopped listening to him. Andrea was tending to T-Dog's wounds, the sheriff got away from the group and everybody else seemed to calm down. Also silent, she came even closer and crouched by his side.

"Coke again, Dixon?"

"Fuck you."

"You were doing well, you know you were." She ignored it. "Ya see what happens the first day ya get back to it?"

"I said fuck you! Just get me the fuck outta here!"

"Well, make up your fuckin' mind, Dixon. You want me to go fuck myself or to let you go?"

"Ya tryin' to be funny, pussycat?"

"Nah. I'm just gonna leave ya there for a while. Calm down, let the high go, think about what you did to get yourself in this fucked up situation. We'll talk later."

She got up and was thankful that Merle said nothing else, neither did anybody. She walked over to where the stranger was on the parapet, looking out to the city. She could see him cradling his hand, the one he used to punch Merle.

"You're not Atlanta PD. Where you from?" she asked him as she stood by his side.

"Up the road a ways."

"Well… Officer friendly from up the road ways?" she said and he looked at her. "Merle is like that most of the time, he's a drug addict, uneducated redneck. But he was cutting out on the drugs, back on camp. He was getting better, more controlled. We had a fight, things got ugly, and apparently he got right back to it."

"You're his wife or something?"

She laughed, "God forbid, no. I'm his friend. Sorta… Maybe not anymore. But ya see, I had it. In a fight or not, I still got a history with the man, I still know how to talk to him. You're new here, ya don't know us, so next time, before ya go on handcuffing people to the roof, just back off and let us sort our own problems, alright?" she finished and turned to leave. "Welcome to the jungle, sheriff."


	13. Day 60 - part 2

Day 60

Merle had been quiet for the past few minutes, but Sam wasn't fooled. She knew he was high, his mind probably elsewhere, and that he would return at any given moment. She sat on the pipe where he had his back onto and just observed. The group was quiet. Andrea and Jackie were side by side looking down at the street, talking quietly. T-Dog was sitting on the floor, still in pain from the beating he had received, the radio in hand. Morales seemed anxious, pacing slowly close to the parapet. Glenn had sat down n the pipe, the same Sam was on, a few minutes ago, expressionless, but she could see his eyes dancing quickly as if thinking hard about something. The new guy – Sam wondered why nobody had even asked his name yet –was still where she had left him minutes ago, on the other side of the roof.

She had heard what he had old Merle about being just a guy looking for his wife and son and felt sorry for him. He seemed hopeful, or at least seemed to be holding tightly to that hope only to keep moving, but Sam had a more realistic mind. She knew how unlikely it was that the man would ever find them. They'd probably be gone now, dead or undead. Sam looked down between her knees, shaking her head. This man had better have an idea to get them out of here soon. The door were blocked, their cars surrounded, the street looking like an ant's nest from above. It was not safe to try and pass by them; they all would end up dead. Unless they passed flying above the walkers or underneath… Underneath.

Sam heard voices now, she knew the group had started talking again, but only heard them from the back of her mind. If they could find a way to pass by the walkers, maybe a way to go into the sewers…

"How's that signal?" the sheriff approached asking, looking down to where T was sat.

"Like Dixon's brain. Weak."

"Keep trying," Morales told him.

"Why?" Andrea's tone was hopeless. "There's nothing they can do. Not a damn thing."

"Got some people outside the city, is all." Morales clarified it to the new guy. "There's no refugee center. That's a pipe dream."

"Then she's right, we're on our own." The sheriff said. "It's up to us to find a way out."

"Good luck with that!" Merle drawled from his spot, making Sam turn her head to look at him. She had really though he'd been out all this time. "These streets ain't safe in his part of town from what I head. Ain't that right, sugar tits?" he was now looking at Andrea, who was fumbling into a backpack on the ground. Sam rolled her eyes, she knew what was coming. "Hey, honeybunch, what'd you say you get me out of these cuffs, we go off somewhere and bump some uglies? Gonna die anyway."

"I'd rather." Andrea cut him off as she got up, something from the bag in hand.

"Rub muncher. I figure as much."

Sam's mind was only half on what she heard around. Half of her was glad Merle had never proposed something like that to her before, her other part was still thinking of the possibility of finding a sewer to climb down.

"The streets ain't safe…" new guy was mumbling.

"Now that's an understatement." Morales told him, deep frown in his forehead.

"What about under the streets?" Sam voiced what she'd been thinking and stood up, taking two steps to approach them. "The sewers?"

"Oh, man!" Morales' face lit up.

"Hey, Glenn!" Sam called him and saw him straighten his back immediately, ready. "Check the alley. You see any manhole covers?"

Glenn got up and ran instantly, the others waiting in silence. He returned in a moment, still running. "No, must be all out on the street where the geeks are."

"Maybe not!" Jackie, who had been quiet for the most part of time, spoke up. "Old buildings like this were built in the twenties. Big structures often had drainage tunnels into the sewers in case of flooding down the subbasements."

"How do you know that?" Glenn asked her.

"It's my job. Was. I worked in the city zoning office."

Silence took them for a moment while they all looked at one another. The sheriff looked at Sam then, raising an eyebrow in question.

"We'll try this." She decided. "We have to find the entrance to this tunnel. Glenn?"

"I think I might know where it is!" he smiled and ran in the quick way that he did, the others following him without further questioning.

The subbasement was pitch dark when Sam, Morales, Andrea, Jackie and the new guy followed Glenn down, only their flashlights making possible to discern anything. They stood at a guardrail, looking down at what looked like a sewer entrance. Glenn informed them it was the lowest point in the building, therefore the most probable place. When questioning who was going to go down there to see if it would work, every single head turned to Glenn, he younger and quicker one, except for Sam's.

"We'll be right behind you," Andrea told him. At least, Sam thought, she'd had the decency to sound guilty for suggesting him to go down there.

"No, you won't!", Glenn answered firmly, surprising the others. "Not you."

"Why not me? Think I can't?", Andrea now sounded offended, a second's change on tone.

"I – I wasn't…"

"Speak your mind." The sheriff told Glenn and made Sam roll her eyes. She was annoyed now. Annoyed with how everyone turned to Glenn when something scary had to be done, annoyed at Andrea's both kinds of tone, and now at the new guy trying to give heartfelt advice when he had just arrived.

"Look, until now I always came here by myself. In and out, grab a few things, no problem. The first time I bring a group everything goes to hell. No offense. If you want me to go down this gnarly hole, fine, but only if we do it my way." He looked down at the entrance and back at the group. "It's tight down there. If I run into something and have to get away quick, I don't want you all jammed up behind me, getting me killed. I'll take one person."

The new guy straightened up and opened his mouth to speak, but Glenn cut him out. At least he had tried to step up, Sam would give him that.

"Not you either." Glenn said raising a hand to stop him. "You've got Merle's gun and I've see you shoot." He stopped to look at Sam, across from him on the guardrail. "Right?"

"I'd feel better if you were out in the store watching those doors, covering out ass." Sam replied and added, looking at Andrea, "You've got a gun, so you should go with him."

The both of them nodded, and so did Glenn before he kept talking, "You'll be my wingman," he told Morales, who nodded. "Jackie and Sam'll stay up here. Something happens, you'll cover the entrance and yell down to us, get us back here in a hurry."

"No."

They all looked at Sam. She had crossed her arms, gesture Glenn had learned to mean that she had her foot down.

"I heard what you said, Glenn, but no. You're running the group today, I know it, but sorry, no. I won't get you down there. I'll go with Morales."

"But Sam, if something happens the camp needs –"

"I ain't worried about the camp now, Glenn, what matters now is that we get outta here safely, and you're the one who knows this place well enough to help get us out. I'm not risking that." She saw Glenn start to disagree, but she knew they didn't have much time to discuss it. "I've made up my mind, Glenn. You're not going down there; I am. You stay here with Jackie. Sorry, dude, that's final."

Vexed, Glenn looking down, not trying to hide he was not happy with the decision, but didn't say anything. The other nodded and Sam poked Morales in the arm as she passed by him on her way to the ladder. Four flashlights illuminated their way down, Sam first, and as the two stood on the bottom of the pit, Andrea and the new guy left to go back to the store. With a look and a nod, she and Morales walked into the sewer. There were rats – real big ones – down there, but Sam didn't mind them. She and her wingman walker slowly and in silence for a few minutes, the air stale and thick made it hard to take any deeper breath.

"Hey, Sam?" Morales broke the silence quietly, but still it sounded loud down there. "What'd you make of this new guy?"

"Hard to say. Nosy, for sure. Walks in here kicking the door and handcuffing people to the roof."

"Do you think Dixon was gonna stop?"

"Think so. I got my own problems with Merle but we manage. No way we'll ever know now."

"Guy'd better find a way to get us outta here if the sewers don't work. We're trapped in here 'cause of him."

"Ya damn right. Not that he did it on purpose or anything, but is still on him."

"So, d'you think we like him?"

Sam turned her head a bit to look back at Morales, understanding that by 'we' he meant the whole group.

"Not up to me, Mo. Ya wanna like the guy, you like the guy. I don't dislike him, if you wanna know, but I'll keep an eye on him."

"Guy reminds me of Shane a little." Morales told her. "Like it's on him to take charge."

"So we'll be fucked. Two cops banging on their chests? Don't see how this gonna work."

"Hey, is that a door?"

At the end of the tunnel, an heavy looking metal door closed the way. Morales stepped up to open it, he had to use his shoulder weight to push it open, but it didn't offer any more trouble. Inside, the air was even thicker, the smell of something dead hitting them like a punch. Morales and Sam looked at each other and nodded, agreeing how careful they had to be. Across the small area there were a few steps down and, finally, a round hole closed with iron grid.

"Yeah, we got ourselves a sewer tunnel. Jackie was right."

"Can we cut through it?" Sam asked as she touched the iron. It seemed awfully strong.

"If we have a blowtorch and half a day, sure. Dale's hacksaw sure as hell won't do it."

Unmistakable sound or growling reached their ears then, among rat's squeaking, making them both take a step back from the grid. A walker inside, still chewing on a rat, tried to get to them, his arms crossing the grid, faced pressed onto it. Another walker joined it then, and by the sound of it, there were more approaching.

"Well, fuck." Sam said aloud over the walkers' moaning. "Ain't a good idea to spend half a day to open hell's gates."

Silence was once again over them, but the tension was more palpable than ever. The first glad downstairs had been broken by the walkers, who were working insistently on breaking the second one – the only think separating them from the group upstairs – as they looked down to the street, thinking hard. The sewers had been a dead end, as Sam and Morales regretfully told the others when they returned. Thunder rumbled in a low threat above their heads. The new guy had a pair of binoculars in hand and had been looking around for a couple of minutes now, quietly. Sam was by his site on the parapet and he handed her the binoculars as if in a kind of sudden revelation.

"That construction site," he pointed to it making her look in that direction. "Those trucks, they always keep keys on hand."

"You'll never make it past the walkers," Morales said by their side, shaking his head.

New guy looked past Sam and Morales, to Glenn. "You got me out of that tank."

"Yeah, but they were feeding. They were distracted." Glenn tried to dismiss it.

"Can we distract them again?"

"Right!" they all turned to look down at Merle, handcuffed. Sam had thought he'd been sleeping or something, he had been so quiet. "Listen to him, he's on to something! A Diversion, like on 'Hogan's Heroes'!"

Sam had no idea what Hogan's Heroes was, and by Glenn's looks, neither did he. She assumed Merle had not said something good, as expected, by the other's reactions. The sheriff, though, only moved on.

"They're drawn by sound, right?"

"Right. Like dogs," Sam told him. "They hear a sound, they come. Is why your bullet got so many of them on our asses."

"What else?"

"Other than hearing you?" Sam snorted a laugh. "They see you, smell you, like anyone, except they're dead. Dude, where have you been all this time that you don't know shit?"

"They can tell us by smell?" he asked, ignoring her question.

Glenn laughed nervously, "Can't you?"

"They smell dead, we don't. It's pretty distinct!" Andrea also had the unbelieving tone on her voice. None of them seemed to understand how this guy had survived so far without knowing this basic information about the dead. The dead, though, were almost invading the store by now, so there was to spare time to talk about this. They had to get out, and fast.

He looked around, at each of them, and even though none of them knew this man, it was written all over his face that he had an idea, a mischievous grin on his lips.

"What?" she asked him.

"So if we smell and look like them… They won't see us. Ain't that right?"

Nobody answered, but Andrea laughed it out, Glenn looked nauseous and the others seemed just ultimately hopeless.

"Wait, guys," Sam told them and the man looked at her, the glint in his eyes sparkling more. "It makes sense! Just, I mean, got no idea of how doing it –" she paused, ideas dizzyingly flowing around her mind. "Guts, you think?"

He smiled. "That's exactly what I'm thinking."

He didn't want to do it, it was clear. The idea of slicing and digging though a walker's corpse with axes had been ok in theory, but now as they all looked down at the walker – one T-Dog had beaten to death with a baseball bat earlier – the idea seemed much more stupid. Sam stood away with the other two women. Not that she was showing or telling anybody, but her stomach was complaining loudly at the mere idea of what the men were going to do now.

The kid didn't like guts, apparently.

They had paid their respects for the man that walker had once been – Wayne Dunlap, and he was an organ donor – and now there was nothing else to do but gut him. Exclamations, disgusted sounds and something in Spanish followed the first blow and kept coming for as long as the sheriff dug into the corpse with the axe he had taken from the wall. It had been decided Sam was going with him; they were already wearing a beige robe over their clothes, ready to the gore shower. She was breathing hard while it happened, as intestines and other indistinct, putrid smelling human organs were exposed and turned to pieces.

"I am so gonna hurl…" Glenn moaned across from Sam, reflecting her thoughts.

"Later," she told him despite her own nausea.

"Everybody got gloves?" the man asked as he stopped a bit sweaty. "Don't get any on your skin or in your eyes."

Reluctantly, all the others starts shoving their hands into the walker's guts and pulling pieces and gooey things out to rub on Sam and Rick, all the while complaining. It took no more than a minute for Glenn to let go and turn around, away from the others, to throw up. The sound and smell of it, combines with the few pairs of hands rubbing gore on her clothes triggered Sam's own nausea. She shoved the hands away and also turned away.

"I can't!", she said without taking a moment to think. "Oh God, I can't!" and went on for a second round.

So now, after she had shrugged off the robe and it was wrapped around Glenn, who recovered from the nausea as she simply didn't, she felt so angry she almost cried. Sam knew she had to be the one to go with the sheriff, she didn't want anyone else to do that in her place, especially Glenn, but as she retreated to the other side of the room to hurl for a third time, she knew she didn't have a choice. Glenn and the new guy – she wondered why s he hadn't still asked about his name – were now covered in red and black matter and Andrea was handing Glenn her own gun.

"What about Merle Dixon?" T-Dog asked the man and, after a second of thought, he fumbled under the dirty robe and into one of his pockets to fish out the handcuff key. He handed it to T, reverently, and the other man nodded, gravelly. Sam rolled her eyes. The keys should be with her, it would be her responsibility to set Merle free when the moment came, but now they had restarted the process with the remaining guts of the walker, and she couldn't look or talk anymore. She had nothing else to throw up now, but the kid was still extremely angry with the scene.

"Hey, what's happening? Sam?" Merle yelled hoarsely as soon as they returned to the roof, running to the edge to look down the street.

"T, try the radio again!" she instructed instead of answering.

"Hey, come on! Talk to me, yall!"

Sam looked at him only long enough to see Merle seemed a bit soberer than before, his words less slurred. She kept running to the edge, though, as T-Dog's voice trying communications again sounded through the roof. Morales found Glenn and his gory companion down the street in a moment, pointing down at them, followed closely by a loud thunder echoing down, as if on cue.

"That asshole's out on the street with the handcuff keys?"

T-Dog hand the key, toying with it for Merle to see. His face showed the dread of being literally on T-Dog's hands after having beaten him up. Merle looked directly at her for a moment, but she didn't say anything, turning to look down again. Maybe it would be good for him to feel fear once in a while.

"Hello!" a crackling voice sounded over the radio, making everybody silent and turn towards it. "Hello? Reception's bad on his end! Repeat!

"Sounds like Dale," Sam whispered, afraid her very voice was going to make the connection fail. There was more static and a few lost words, but it was more than they had been able to get until now. "Just tell them what's going on, maybe they're listening." She told him a little bit louder.

"We're in some deep shit," he started. "We're trapped in the department store. There're walkers all over the place, hundreds of them! We're surrounded".

Nothing followed it. Dale's voice didn't sound again and, slowly, even the static stopped.

"Good, now they think we're dead." Andrea whined as she turned to the edge of the roof again.

"Hey!" Merle yelled again. "The fuck's going on?"

"Shh, Merle!" Sam turned to him. "We don't know! They're just walking to the construction site, nothing else!"

What followed were minutes of desperation. It had started raining, a quite strong shower, which seconds later made the two of the man down the street start to run. Tens of walkers ran after them, almost as fast, having scented they living flesh. Up on the roof, there was nothing anyone could do, and Sam dreaded the moment she would see Glenn get caught and eaten right in front of their eyes. They were far now, jumping over the construction fence only a second away from the walkers' jaws. The fence fell even before they reached the truck they had been aiming for and it was possible to see them entering and closing the doors a breath away from being reached by the dead. The truck sped away immediately, leaving their line of sight.

"They're leaving us!" Andrea cried.

"What? What?" Merle reacted from his spot.

"No, no! Come back!" Andrea kept going.

"Of for fuck's sake, Andrea, shut up!" Sam snapped. "They won't leave us, are you crazy?"

"Do you see them?" the blonde, crying woman turned to her, and pointing somewhere out the building. "They're gone! They know there's no way out, they've left us!"

"They are coming back." Sam stated firmly and looked at the others, who also had desperation on their eyes and back at Andrea. "They'll be back! Stop being such a fuckin' drama queen."

It took less than two minutes for the radio, still on T-Dog's hand, to creak alive. "Those roll-up doors at the front of the store facing the street?" Glenn started nervously but speaking rather clearly. "Meet us there and be ready!"

Hopefulness repapered on their eyes and, without saying more, they all started gathering their bags in a hurry. With two backpacks over her shoulders, Sam turned to Merle, only to see all the other run towards the door, including T-Dog, accompanied by Merle's desperate screams as soundtrack.

"T-Dog!" Sam yelled as loud as she could. "Get your ass back here with that key!" Anger raised to her throat, reddening her face as she saw her supposedly friend look between her, Merle and the door, doubtful if he was really going to go back. "Gimme that fuckin' key, T-Dog, of so help me God!"

He turned and ran to her, finally. Everybody else had vanished through the heavy roof door and Sam was still close to Merle, she hadn't been able to take a single step towards it. As T-Dog approached and Merle still yelled desperately, his voice hoarser and hoarser, he took the key out of his pocket. It flew out of his hand in a moment, so fast Sam could barely follow its motion, as T-Dog tripped and fell to heavily to the ground. They small key disappeared into one of the drain holes, followed by a frantic wail of "No!" from Merle.

"Fuck!" Sam cried, hands raising to her head. "No, fuck! Fuck, T, the fuck did you do?!"

"Son of a bitch! You did that of purpose!"

"I didn't mean to!"

"Fuckin' liar! You threw it on purpose!" Merle kept on furiously.

"It was an accident! I'm sorry!" T kept apologizing as he walked backwards to the door, and then turned and ran away.

"Fuck!" Merle cried, unintelligible words of rage coming out of his mouth as he fought the handcuffs, strongly enough to draw blood from his wrist.

Sam joined him; backpacks forgotten on the floor as she sat down and started kicking the pipe with her heels. It didn't even make a scratch.

"Stop it, ya fuckin pussy!" Merle yelled at her, his free hand pulling her away from him. "Ya gotta go. Go, get the fuck away from here!"

"I'm not leaving you here."

"Yeah, y'are! They'll leave ya here to, go!"

"No, Merle!" I'm not leaving you alone here! They'll – I don't – They'll come back for us."

"They won't!" he shouted to loud that a vein on his neck seemed to pop. "They not coming back, ya gotta go! Go, get the fuck outta my face!"

"Merle –"

"I don't want ya here, Georgia!" he spit and actually foamed out of his mouth, getting up as best as he could with a hand attached to the pipe. "Leave me alone! Go, now!"

"Geor – " Sam started, confused.

"Aren't ya listening to me? Go! Go! Get lost, Georgia, now!"

"Okay!" she finally cried, getting up bringing the bags with her. "I'll go but I'm coming back for ya, Merle, me and Daryl, we'll come back!"

"I don't fuckin' care, GO!"

Fighting the urge to cry, Sam ran, Merle finally going quiet. As she crossed the door, she saw a chain that had not been there before, with a heavy padlock hanging with it on the door handle. Relieved someone had taken the time to put it there before fleeing, she locked the door behind her, still taking an extra second to make sure it was firm in place, before flying down the stairs.

There were walkers inside the store, having just broken the glass. Sam stopped for a second, "No, no, no…" before making a mental line from where she stood to the door that would lead her to the doors Glenn had spoken about. Holding the bags firmly around her shoulders, Sam set to motion, running right towards the walkers. Two meters away from the closest one, she took an abrupt turn to her left, a still empty area and had to climb up to a counter, running on top of it, avoiding walkers' hands by inched. Closer to the door, she was able to fall back to the floor and run. The others were there, on the side room, throwing the last of the bags into the parked truck, yelling incoherently. T-Dog took her both bags before motioning her to take his hand so he could help her up. With an angry frown, she rejected it and climbed in by herself. The truck doors were still open as it took off, the sweaty, smelly sheriff driving it away. Morales closed them and they all sat down, heavy breaths and the nearly audible sound of their heartbeats. After a moment of silence, the others started looking abound, confused, especially at T-Dog and herself. Bile rose to her throat once again, at him for dropping the key, at the stranger for handcuffing him in the first place, and even more at herself for having let Merle bully her into leaving him there.

"I dropped the damn key." T-Dog explained bitterly, and what happened had become quite clear. They had just abandoned one of theirs.

Silence took the truck, exhaustion winning over words. Morales was having a quiet conversation with the sheriff on the front seat, but Sam couldn't listen. She had lain down on the floor of the truck, an arm draped over her eyes. Glenn had passed by them minutes ago with his sports car, alarm buzzing loudly, cheering in joy. She didn't blame him. They had gotten out, half by his brave actions, and he hadn't just been forced to abandon a friend behind.

A bit calmer now, Sam felt her stomach complain by the motion of the truck and her position, but she couldn't bring herself to move, her mind worried about something else. How on Earth was she supposed to tell Daryl about what had happened? About her going even though he had asked her not to? About not being able to control Merle? About him being there, even now, alone and handcuffed on the roof under the sun? She was apprehensive over his reaction with the others, but dreaded the possibility of him hating _her_.

It took less than expected go get back to camp. Truck parked close to the end of the road, Andrea was the first one to slide out, running to reencounter her sister. Morales, also eager to see his family, was just as fast.

"Hey." Sam turned to see the sheriff approach her behind the truck, the others already away. "I just wanted to say… I'm sorry. For your friend."

"Yeah? Are you really, new guy?"

He rested his hands on his hips, looking down but with eyes still on her face. "It was never my intention to leave him there. I just wanted him to be in control."

She breathed out, annoyed, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fuck, I know that. I know alright? I don't blame you for doing that. But, fuck, he is there now, trapped, and it is because of that. Just a fact."

"Hey! Helicopter boy!" Morales voice sounded over the reunion and conversation that had been going on nearby, making them both look in their direction. "Come say hello!"

He looked again at Sam, as if asking for permission or what to do. "Just go." She told him and turned to get her backpacks. She felt like crying, exhaustion hitting her like a wrecking ball. She knew Daryl wasn't back from his hunt yet, it would most likely happen tomorrow. It was good, she thought. At least she would try to get some sleep before having to deal with it and probably lose one more friend. Her thoughts were interrupted by a child's cry, squeaky and happy. Carl's voice, she recognized. Turning to look, she saw him throw himself over the new guy, who was now on the floor, crying, clinging to him. It made sense when Sam looked to Lori, her eyes, which were naturally big even wider now, filled with tears. In a moment the three of them were hugging. Over their shoulders, he was now looking at Shane, who had a confused smile on his face, and the whole camp understood. The new guy was Rick Grimes.

Sam hated that Carol had to help prepare dinner and then take her part and her family's and go sit away from the others, not being allowed to socialize, talk like everybody else. Ed made her sit away, Sofia in tow. The low fire creaked n the middle of the group, quietly listening to Rick tell them what had happened. He had woken up from a coma in the abandoned hospital, completely unaware of what had happened. Not it made sense why he knew nothing about walkers. He had gone home and then back to Atlanta and that had been when they met, never once imagining that his family was back at the camp. Lori had told her Rick was dead, that Shane had seen his body for himself. Now, as Rick spoke, wife and son wrapped around him, Sam observed Shane's expression, or lack thereof. Nothing other than his wide eyes gave away anything he was feeling. He smiled a bit every time Rick looked directly at him, but his smile vanished as soon as she thought he wasn't been watched. Making a mental note to observe him even closer than she always did, Sam decided something was definitely going to come out of this.

On the other little group, Ed placed an extra log on their fire and it rose up, light strong enough to call attention. Shane looked at Sam. That was supposed to be her kind of responsibility.

"Damn, Shane, could you take care of it?" She asked him, happy to give him something to do other than watch as his best friend took away the girl he had been seeing. "I just can't deal with fuckin' Ed right now."

"Sure." He said as he got up, seemingly grateful for having a chance to direct some of his feelings. He got up and the group remained in silence for a moment, the creaking of the firewood the only thing to be heard. Sam could feel the weight of stares on her direction.

"Sam?" Glenn broke the silence with an almost whisper, two spots away from her. "You okay?"

She looks at him for a moment before answering, clearly aware of all the eyes on her. Bitterness coating her eyes and voice, she tells him "My friend's just been abandoned handcuffed to a rooftop in a walker infested building. I ain't okay."

Glenn tried a sympathetic smile, but failed miserably, making Sam almost feel sorry for him. Nothing of it had been his fault; he went out there, risked his life covered in walkers' guts to take them all out of there. That was something she would never forget.

"Have you given any thought to Daryl?" Dale asked carefully, directly at Sam. "He won't be happy to hear his brother was left behind."

Before Sam could laugh and tell him 'no shit', T-Dog answered his question. "I'll tell him. I dropped the key; it's on me."

"I cuffed him. That makes it mine" Rick cut matter-of-factly.

"It's not a damn competition!" Sam told them both with a bit more force than she intended. Before moving on, she breathed once and continues a little calmer. "He's not gonna wanna hear it from the one who cuffed and the one who lost the key."

"I did what I did. Hell if I'm gonna hide from him."

"We could lie." Amy, leaning against her older sister's shoulder, barged in.

"Or you all could stop pretending you actually cared for Merle or even for Daryl." Sam gave up on hiding her annoyance. She looked at Amy, "Lie, really? Is that what you'd all do if I wasn't here?"

"We're telling the truth", Rick spoke as firmly as her.

"Merle was out of control." Andrea also opined and looked at Lori. "Something had to be done or he'd have gotten us killed. Your husband did what was necessary, and if Merle got left behind, it is nobody's fault but Merle's."

"Right, I see," Sam spoke again. "None of you waited. You all just ran away from the roof, ignoring his screaming for help. If I remember right, Andrea, you were the first one out of the door. If I didn't plead for T to come back with the key," she looked at him, "you'd have left as well. Dropping the key was an accident, but you weren't even gonna go back to try. So, please, do not tell me being left behind was Merle's fault. All the rest, yeah, but not _this_."

"I was scared and I ran. I'm not ashamed of it," T-Dog answered her accusation. "We were all scared, we all ran, and for what I see, so did _you_. You're here, ain't you?"

"He made me run. Even high and desperate he knew I'd also be left behind if I didn't run. Or would you guys stop, or even think of turning back to get me? I did run, yeah, but I stopped long enough to chain that door."

"Thought you would…" T said, calming down a bit, lowering his voice and looking down. "It was on the floor, by the stairs, I got it and hung on the door, thought you'd lock it."

"Yeah… Thanks for that…"

"Hold on…" Andrea whispered. "What does that mean?"

"Staircase is narrow." Sam started explaining. "Few walkers may have climbed it, not many not enough to break the chain."

"No. Not that chain. Not that padlock." T-Dog continued her thought.

"It just means that Merle's still there. Alive, abandoned on the roof, alone and handcuffed. That, no competitions for who's the guiltiest – That's on all of us."

Painful silence stretched around the fire. Sam felt her throat constricted, wondering how was she supposed to tell it to Daryl. T-Dog got up holding his ribcage, looking like he might throw up. She had to get out of there as well, and knew nobody could possibly say anything of use now.

"We'd best be getting of", she informed after a moment. "Was a long day for all of us. Everyone who hasn't been to Atlanta today should take the rounds, we're wracked. That ok?"

Nodding, the others agreed and started vanishing to their own posts or tents. Sam didn't want to think of anything else, not tonight. Entering her small, orange tent, she dropped to her bed without even removing her shoes, passing out rather than falling asleep.


	14. Day 61 - part 1

Day 61

Despite of herself, Sam laughed. Arms crossed, one hand covering her mouth, shoulders shaking against her will as she watched Glenn whine about the car being torn apart. He had wished he'd keep it, but its parts were more important than its looks. Dale had already drained all the gasoline from the tank to feed his generator.

She stopped laughing, though, when she overheard Rick talking to his wife. Lori showed pretty well with her annoyed whispering that she didn't like him bringing up Merle being left behind in Atlanta. She avoided discussing it with him, occupying herself with helping to unload the gallons of water from Shane's car.

The two she had just taken fell heavily to the floor at the sound of screaming. The kids –

she recognized instantly – were scared and calling for help. The knife was in her hand without her knowing how it got there as she ran, along with the others, to the direction of the yelling. The four kids came running in their direction, Lori, Carol, and Miranda falling to the ground in relief to hold them as the others kept running to the woods.

"What happened?" Sam asked aloud when the men disappeared from view.

"It's eating a deer!" Sofia cried.

Following the other's steps, Sam found them not too far ahead, gathering around the form of a solitary walker, bent down to the floor and devouring a dead animal, unaware of the humans around it. It took Andrea and Amy arriving and gasping aloud to call its attention. The male walker got up and growled just a moment before being finally attacked.

Sam stood on the side watching as the six men beat it down to the floor, until Dale finally cut its head off with a rusty axe. "Goddammit guys," she told them as they got silent, breathing hard. "Did you forget how to kill a walker?"

"It's dead now, ain't it?" Shane retorted, seemingly pissed off.

"It's the first one we've had that close in a while," Dale spoke darkly, breaking the discussion he foresaw coming. "They never come this far up the mountain."

"Well, they're running out of food in the city, that's what," Jim opined.

They were once again alarmed by a noise coming from the woods. Feet rustling dead leaves, from the sound of it, hidden by foliage. Weapons were raised, waiting for whatever it was to show up and be probably beaten up, just like the first one had been. Sam's knife was the first down in relief though, as she saw first the crossbow appear from behind a rock, and then Daryl.

He stopped, startled by the reception. "Son of a bitch!" was his hello, just as the others relaxed and started pacing around. "That's my deer! Look at it! All gnawed on by this filthy," he kicked the headless body, "decease-bearing," one more kick punctuated it, "motherless, poxy bastard!" Some blood gushed out of its chest cavity at the last kick.

"Calm down, son," Dale told him and Sam knew that would not help at all. "That's not helping."

"What do you know about it, old man?" He approached Dale with fast steps, irritated to the root, Shane motioning his rifle between the two of them. "Why don't you take that stupid hat and go back to On Golden Pond?" He turned again to the carcass. "I've been trackin' this deer for miles. Was gonna drag it back here to camp, cook us some venison." At that, he started taking his arrows out of the dead animal and looked up, effortlessly finding Sam among the group and nodded at her. "No veal again, I'm 'fraid."

She smiled at him, all heads turned to her.

"What do you think?" Daryl moved on, crouching by the deer. "Do you think we can cut around this chewed up part here?"

"Can't eat that now," she answered what all the others clearly thought.

"That's a damn shame." He got up. "I got some squirrel, 'bout a dozen or so. That'll have to do."

The walker's head groaned, opening its eyes. Sam had forgotten it would be still alive, for it was no danger anymore. The blonde girls who had been standing next to her cried out in disgust and turned away to flee the scene and Sam shook her head, eyes rolling.

"Seriously, when are they gonna get used to it?" she asked to nobody.

"Come on, people! What the hell?" Daryl snarled and pointed the crossbow down at it, shooting without even a second to aim. "It's gotta be the brain, don't y'all know nothing?" he bragged, taking a few steps towards Sam, squirrels hanging off his shoulders.

"Hey," she told him and he nodded in acknowledgement. "Can I talk to you?"

Hearing it, all the men started leaving them alone, returning to camp, clearly running away from what was to come. Daryl watched them all leaving and waited in silence, eyebrows furred in worry.

"Where's Merle?" he finally asked.

"He used again," Sam said, crossing her arms. "He took some coke with him on the run and snorted it up in the store, while we were all surrounded by walkers."

"Son of a bitch!" Daryl mumbled.

"Yep. Started shooting rifle rounds from the roof, attracting even more dead from the street. We were fucked and he was making it even worse. We were downstairs and ran up to try and make him stop, and then a fight started between him and T-Dog. He yelled racist things, T got mad, and Merle beat him up." She summarized and Daryl only groaned in annoyance at his brother, a hand rubbing his dirty, sweaty face. "He probably got a broken rib or two. Then Merle took a gun out and pointed down at his face, threatening to shoot. He didn't, but was talking about taking the leadership of the group, that nobody was to question him. It was fucked up, Daryl, he was outta control. I think he only didn't shoot, because I talked him out of it, but there was no way he was gonna calm down and not make things worse. You know that."

Jaw tight, brows furrowed, Daryl nodded at her, making her continue the story.

"New guy handcuffed him to a pipe."

"What? Who'd have a handcuff?"

"He's a sheriff. And Lori's husband. Carl's dad."

"What?" he asked again, louder, a little high-pitched. "Wasn't he dead?"

"They thought so. He'd been in the hospital, woke up in the apocalypse and had been wandering around Atlanta when he got surrounded by walkers, started shooting them for protection, got even more around in front of the store, trapping us in there, and ended up taking

shelter in an army tank."

Daryl laughed a quick, bitter, but genuine laugh. "Now ya just fuckin' with me!"

"I wish!" she also smiled, but it faded quickly. "He was Shane's partner in the police, that's why he had a handcuff."

"Holy fuck. And then what?"

"Then Merle sat there, unable to move, to come down from the high, while we all tried to find a way to get outta there. I even went down to the sewers with Morales, but there was no way out."

"Fuck, Sam, I told ya not to go!"

She looked down, arms falling to her sides. "I know, Daryl, but it's done now. I went there and it all went to shit. Rick and Glenn had to get covered in a walker's guts to smell like them and be able to go down the street to get a truck and rescue us."

"They did that?" he asked, impressed.

"They saved our lives. Well, it was the Sheriff's fault we were trapped in the first place, but he didn't do that on purpose, he was shooting to protect himself. But yeah, they walked among like a million walkers and got us outta there. But –" she paused.

Daryl took one step closer to her. "Where is Merle, Sam?"

"On the roof," she blurted out.

"What?!" he walked away from her, pacing a few feet away. "He was left there? Why the fuck didn't you take him with? What the fuck, Sam?!"

"Stop yelling and let me explain!" she also yelled.

"Go on then!" was his last shout.

"T-Dog had the key. Then the truck was coming back to the store, we had to run, the walkers were breaking in, there wasn't much time. And, fuck, he was desperate to go and dropped the fuckin' key."

He paused, frozen for a moment, before whispering angrily, "He dropped the key?"

"It was a fuckin' accident, I saw it. I'm fuckin' pissed at him, Daryl, but I know he didn't do it on purpose. He then ran and I was going to stay there with Merle, I knew you'd come back for the both of us later."

"But ya here!" he yelled again. "What the fuck happened?"

"He didn't let me stay. He almost punched me with his free hand, started yelling at me to go, his face was about to blow and he was kicking and spitting. He made me run, Daryl."

He stopped to stare at her then. He had never seen her look like this. Her eyes were red, her heartbeat could be seen on her neck and, as he watched, a tear escaped her eye and rolled

down her cheek.

She scrubbed her face angrily and spoke again, her voice a bit more controlled. "I told him we're going back for him and locked the door to the roof with a padlock. It's safe, the walkers couldn't get up there. So yeah, he's still there, handcuffed, all we gotta do is go get him back."

He nodded, chin up. "Ya damn right I'll get him back. But ya ain't. Ya not going."

"Oh, not that again, Daryl! I told him I'd go, I even promised him. You can't make me stay!"

"Just watch me." He threatened and walked away, shoulder nearly bumping hers on the way back to camp.

"Hey, Daryl?" she called and he stopped a distance from her. "Who's Georgia?"

Something changed in his eyes as she said the name. "Why d'you ask?"

"Merle called me that. When he was yelling at me to leave, he called me 'Georgia.'"

He was silent then, standing there, staring at her, biting on his lower lip. After a few seconds, he took a few steps back to where she was standing. "We had a sister," he started quietly. "Georgia. Bit older than me. Got sick and died at seven."

"Shit," she whispered, looking down.

"He called you 'Georgia?'"

"Yeah. He was – well, you know… Out of it. High and all."

"Yeah," he nodded quietly. "Must be it." After a moment, Daryl turned around and left again, Sam walking after him. He stormed into the clearing where all the people were gathered around, waiting to see what was going to come from Sam's conversation with him. He looked directly to where Rick was standing with Shane, T-Dog and Glenn and pointed at them. "Fuck you all!" he yelled. The man straightened up in attention. "Just tell me where he is, so I can go get him!"

Unlike anyone expected, it wasn't any of the men who answered, but Lori, under the shade of the RV. "He'll show you. Isn't that right?"

Rick nodded, eyes squinted under the sun. "I'm going back."

"Ain't no fuckin' way you goin'!" Daryl's voice thundered into the back of the truck, loud and filled with anger. "Get the fuck outta there!" and he slammed his hand onto the metallic truck floor. "Now!"

Sam had never heard him talk like that, not to her. He had yelled at Merle countless times, at Shane with his intended superiority, and at things in general, but never at her, not until minutes ago when she told him about his brother. To be on the other end of his hatred again now froze her in place for a moment, backpack falling unnoticed to the floor.

"Didn't ya hear me?" he slapped the floor again. "Now, Sam, get out!"

"What the fuck, Daryl?" she said as she found her voice. "Calm down!"

"I'll calm down when ya outta there. Come on!" he yelled, but reached a hand out for her anyway, beckoning her to take it.

Sam took a moment, looking at his hand, before deciding to take it.

As Daryl helped her down out of the truck, Sam saw Rick and Shane approach, sure steps and puffed chests.

"Is everything okay here?" Rick asked, eyeing one and then the other carefully. "Heard yelling."

"Stay out of it, Rick." Sam barked at him. "No need to take the handcuffs out."

Before he could say anything else, Sam grabbed Daryl's arm to pull him away from them. They went around the truck to stand in front of it, away from prying ears.

Checking they were alone, Sam turned around so fast, it startled Daryl, her finger pointed up at his face. "Don't you ever talk to me like that again," she said in a low, dangerous voice. "I don't wanna hear ya yelling at me in front of the others like that, do you hear me?"

"I don't care who heard it!"

"But I care!" She lowered her hand. "You know what happened to Merle! I don't want anyone thinking you're like this, 'cause you ain't! What the fuck was that about? You never talked to me like that!"

"Yeah, hadn't realized how fuckin' careless and stubborn you are! The fuck ya thinking? I told ya not to go and ya did anyway, behind my back! Could've died out there! Could be lost like Merle!"

"I gotta get him back! I left him there, I promised I'd go get him, so I'm going. I'm going, Daryl!"

"No. I'm going. I'mma keep your promise."

"But Daryl –"

"Just fuckin' listen to me for a second, or that too hard for ya?"

"What?!"

"You're pregnant." His voice was low and firm and rooted Sam on the spot. Eyes wide, she stared up at him, not sure what to think or say.

So she didn't. Sam remained quiet, eyes unable to tear from his, mouth dry, dread from admitting it, taking away any reaction she knew she should have.

"Ya havin' a child," he spoke again, even lower, but a little gentler, although his jaw was still set. With her remaining silence, he reached out for her hand, taking it in his a bit abruptly and with a strong grip. He saw her breathe again, like she had forgotten how to do in the past few seconds. "Enough hiding it, Sam. You gotta start acting like it. You'll still fight when ya have to, but if we can help it, ya ain't. You don't have to. If you don't want people to know, alright, your call. But I know, and I ain't gonna let ya risk your life again, or that kid's."

Sam let out a ragged breath and looked down, feeling an uncomfortable pricking in her eyes. Daryl made a move to let her hand go, but she suddenly needed it to keep her grounded, so she grabbed his hand strongly before it could slip away. Looking down, she cleaned her throat before saying anything. "How long have you known?" she asked him in a whisper.

"Not sure how long. Ya been sick every night, eating weird, I don't know... I just figured."

"I wanted to tell you..."

"Whatever," he barked and shook her hand out of his. "Ya owe me nothing."

"No, Daryl, I do. I wanted to, really. I just... Wasn't ready to tell, face it, you know... It'll be a problem for everyone here... But all I knew was that, as soon as I decided to tell, it would be you first." She paused and looked at him, and laughed awkwardly. "Guess it kinda worked out. You really are the first to know –" she paused, alarm rising in her eyes. "Does Merle know?"

"Nah. Don't think so. I didn't tell anyone either."

"I know," she told him softly. "I'm sorry, Daryl."

"Whatever." he stated firmly before turning away.

"Just – Daryl?"

He turned again, as he had done before, silently.

"Be careful out there. Just... don't die, okay?"

Teeth sinking into his bottom lip, he nodded, averting her eyes and spoke as he turned one more time. "I won't."

Watching him retreat, Sam lost the fight against her tears. Covering her mouth, she let it

go quietly, unable to fathom why she was crying. Guilt for not having told him, making him figure it out on his own, and losing the opportunity to demonstrate how she trusted him more than any of the others. Relief that now he knew, now she didn't have to hide it anymore, now she would be able to talk about it, at least to him. Fear for the pregnancy being real. She took a minute, cried it out, breathed deeply, dried her face, squared her shoulders and, controlling her breathing and features, walked back to the clearing where she immediately found Daryl by the fire organizing his arrows. She sat on a rock by him, not saying a word even as he stared at her for a moment, also quiet.

"Could you just tell me why?" Shane was eagerly talking to Rick as they both approached. "Why would you risk your life for a douchebag, like Merle Dixon?"

"Hey!" Daryl said from where he was standing, arrows in hand. "Choose your words more carefully."

"No, I did. Douchebag's what I meant." Shane looked at him and stole an irritated glance from Sam, as well. She held his gaze, hard eyes still a bit red. "Merle Dixon," he mumbled with his eyes going from Sam to Daryl and again before looking back at Rick. "The guy wouldn't give you a glass of water if you were dying of thirst."

"What he would or wouldn't do doesn't interest me." Rick answered loud enough for them both to hear. "I can't let a man die of thirst. Me. Thirst and exposure. We left him like an animal caught in a trap. That's no way for anything to die, let alone a human being."

"So you and Daryl?" Lori asked, disdain dripping from her words. "That's your big plan?"

Sam looked down, afraid Rick would look at her to see if she was going. She didn't see as he did, and Daryl gave him an annoyed glance and shook his head, leaving no space for arguments. Rick then looked at Glenn, speaking to him with his eyes, not with words.

Glenn didn't want to go and said so, but was convinced otherwise. T-Dog also decided to go, as Sam had never doubted. It would be four men.

"It's not just four," Shane started darkly. "You're putting every single one of us at risk. Just know that, Rick. Come on, you saw that walker! It was here, it was in camp! They're moving out of the cities. They come back, we need every able body we've got. We need 'em here, we need 'em to protect the camp!"

"It seems to me what you really need most here are more guns."

"Guns?" Sam lifted her head, startled for a moment. "That bag you had before the tank?"

"Yeah, the bag was filled with weapons. Six shotguns, two high-powered rifles, over a dozen handguns. I cleaned out a cage back at the station before I left. I dropped the bag in Atlanta when I got swarmed."

"Bag's still sitting there then," Sam said, getting up from the rock. "You go get Merle and get the bag back. Guess that's a good enough reason for you, Shane. For them to go back?"

After the silence that followed, when Shane clearly changed his mind about them going, Daryl snorted an angry, bitter laugh. "Apparently a bag of guns' more important than a fuckin' person."


End file.
